Our Starry Voyage
by shiroakuma
Summary: All it takes is one time to fall prey to the transportation malfunction. When Leonard McCoy is lost after such an incident, it falls to the rest of the crew and a heartbroken Jim Kirk to find him in time and bring him back home. Or that one time when Bones is proven right about the dangers of scattering your atoms back and forth by a gadget, and he doesn't even know it.
1. Chapter 1

Of all the days, the colony of Tendala required urgent medical assistance, it had to be during one of the worst thunderstorms it had ever seen. Although Dr Leonard McCoy was currently safe and sound on board the Enterprise, it was only a matter of time before he had to beam down to the planet surface and face the horrendous weather. Displeased and armed with his pack of medical supplies only, McCoy dreaded going into the chaotic environment, even for a minute until he was picked up by the ground team, let alone have his particles scatter back and forth across the storm.

"It'll be alright, Doctor. Yer feet will hit the ground before ye even notice it!" Scotty said in an attempt to calm the doctor. McCoy wasn't fazed and he was adamant in keeping his rigid, scowling posture as his brows furrowed even further at Scotty's shameless happiness.

"It's like the end of the world, damn it! If beaming down doesn't do me in, it's likely the storm will! So excuse me for being nervous. You better time this right, Scotty or you'll end up with my parts spread out all over the surface," was the gruff reply Scotty received. Knowing how McCoy liked to distract himself with death and mayhem theories, he knew better than to take the doctor's words personally.

"The landing party already went through just fine, doctor. I trust my Lady more than anyone else, she will not let us down! As soon as the storm gives it a break, ye'll be good to go. Speak of the devil, here we go!"

McCoy started complaining in return, but his monologue was cut short when Scotty initiated the systems on the console and begin energising him. The lights in the transporter room flickered, casting an unusual darkness of the normally brightly lit room. Scotty's eyes never left the scanner screen and he stood in stunned silence as what should have been McCoy's transmission signal disappeared from his scanners. He took in a deep breath and reconfigured the scan parameters. He tinkered with the controls once more but to no avail, he was unable to detect the good doctor's whereabouts.

Scotty allowed himself two seconds of sheer inner panic before donning the Chief Engineer persona and allowing his finger to fly towards the Comm unit in desperation to contact the Bridge. With shaky hands and even shakier voice, he called for the Captain.

"Transport to Bridge. This is Scotty. Requesting the Captain urgently!"

"Kirk here. What the hell just happened, Scotty? All our systems went offline for a second."

"Aye, Sir. It happened here too, but that's not it. It is Dr McCoy!"

"What about him? Is he still giving you trouble about beaming down?"

The Scotsman took a deep breath and readied himself for what he was about to say. There was no easy way to put it. "No. Well, there has been a complication, Jim." He stammered and wished there was someone else there with him to take over the explanation in the dead silence that followed. "I began to energise him and it was all fine, but then I lost his signal during the energy loss and now I cannot find him on the surface or anywhere else for that matter!"

"What?"

"As I said, I-" Scotty began to repeat himself, but no reply came until Commander Spock's stoic voice responded from the Bridge.

"The Captain is heading your way, Mr Scott," Even the Vulcan's voice sounded strained and if Scotty wasn't panicking before, now he definitely was. "We are also scanning for Dr McCoy's signal, but there is a high background interference due to the storm. Report any findings directly to the Bridge."

"Aye, Commander," he replied dejectedly. There was nothing he could do but search the earth and the sky for their CMO, as much as the range of their scanners allowed them.

"Scotty!" Jim yelled out as soon as he entered the room which was during the Scotsman's second system reboot. The wild and helpless look in the captain's eyes froze Scotty on the spot. He could do nothing but stutter out an explanation all the while Jim's face contorted with an increasing amount of anger.

"What do you mean you can't locate him? You are the Chief Engineer, you are the one responsible for any malfunctions on the ship! Find my CMO!"

"He is gone, Jim!" Scotty yelled in return which was effective in shutting Jim up. Not even under dire conditions, the captain would compromise from his newly found diplomatic manners and he rarely raised his voice to his senior commanding officers but when it came to McCoy, all bets were off. Scotty expected as much and felt that he had deserved every manic scream Jim could throw at him for failing their friend. Yet, a more sane part of him, the part who was still a Starfleet officer, urged him to keep calm where Jim couldn't. He had seen the reckless shit Jim could throw at him when he was pushed to the limit ("Do you accept my resignation or not?" "I do!") and one of them had to keep a cool head if they were to have any chance of finding McCoy. So he continued with an even voice and unwavering words.

"His signal is gone. We don't know if the storm's blocking it or if the apparatus is malfunctioning or if he is..."

"Don't you dare say it, Scotty." Jim warned, voice dangerously low. If Scotty could hear a bit of a tremor in it, he wouldn't mention it. "Bones survived a hell of a lot more bullshit he got caught up in because of me. Hell, he even survived the Academy with me! He is alive and stuck somewhere on the surface. We are going to locate him and bring him back home. Do whatever it takes, get however many people you need to fix this and get it done!"

"We will find him, Jim. I don't intend to leave my post until we do!"

"Me neither, Scotty," They both let out respective breaths, pleased with the confident voice they were able to manage. Scotty could tell that Jim was far away from being optimistic in the way he held his shoulders rigidly. He assumed neither one of them would relax until they had the doctor back on board.

"Comm the bridge. I want all hands on deck for this. Also, tell the landing party to prepare for searching McCoy on land as soon as the storm lets up. I'll go see if Spock has made any sense of these readings."

"Aye, Captain," he said, eyes never leaving Jim's retreating back. The scanners beeped as his fingers flow over the screen once more, unyielding.

It would be hours before the storm would clear. Until then all they had to hold onto was hope for the fallen to survive and pray that they were not too late to do something for him. Scotty, felt his throat close up as he saw how the screens blurred and the static increased, almost as if Enterprise too was fearing for the worst possible outcome.


	2. Chapter 2

A tall, dark-haired man stood in the middle of a dimmed lecture hall, looking up at the expectant faces of his medical students. He caressed his thin moustache, formulating his next words "Our next subject is concerning the post-mortem anatomy of humans. For this lecture, I have invited my dear friend and an esteemed surgeon from America, Dr McCoy. I am sure you have heard his name in these halls during the past year; His unique methods in the field of medicine have been so efficient that they were deemed revolutionary. Today, he is kind enough to join us and share his expertise on the matter. Doctor?"

"Thank you, Sir Ross," McCoy replied as he stood up from his chair, hidden within the shadows of the hall. He fixed his waistcoat while strolling towards the middle of the platform, where Sir Ronald Ross, a medical genius and an old ship's surgeon, stood. "I wouldn't go as far as to say that. I am a humble country doctor after all."

"A nervous country doctor, Dr McCoy?" Ross murmured as he walked pass McCoy. A small teasing smile was on the man's lips. He was definitely enjoying McCoy's uncertain gaze.

"With such impeccably dressed, sharp young men in the room, how can I not be?" he whispered back. A part of him that wanted to remain unobserved throughout the class was adamant in making his stomach curl into itself, but McCoy's stubbornness in fulfilling a promise to his dear friend, Ross proved to be stronger.

"Good, good," Sir Ross exclaimed "Hear him well, boys. He has a few tricks up his sleeve."

"Thank you for the input," McCoy murmured once more and glanced over the class of 1893, Victoria University, medical students. From dressing to manners, they were said to be the finest of the bunch. McCoy would get to judge that for himself that day. He turned his back to the students to reach out to the sheet behind him. There was already a gloomy atmosphere in the room and it did not improve when the doctor slid the sheet from the table. He could hear the collective gulps from the young men at the reveal of a cadaver but he commended them for not audibly gasping.

"What is death but the beginning of a whole new cycle for what's left of our flesh and bones." he began with a philosophical note and focused on what he did best to ease his nervousness, "The carcass of our bodies being shaped by earth and air around us, no longer abiding by the rules of the living but instead decaying and becoming part of another world entirely. Now, I have heard a lot of good things about your academic successes but being a doctor means being able to get into the thick of it without a moment's hesitation. So who can prove me that what they read in the anatomy books are actually helpful in practice?"

"Dr McCoy!" yelled out a blond student from the back and from the mischievous face he was making, McCoy knew he was going to be trouble.

"Yes, young man? Come down here!"

"Might I ask a question first, sir?" he inquired with a thick voice and an odd accent.

"Yes?" he replied despite knowing what was going to follow.

"Are you really qualified enough to be teaching us, sir? After all, you were not present in any schooling until last year and we don't even know your first name. Sir."

"I'll show you first name!" McCoy mumbled but was able to grit his teeth long enough for Ross to interfere before he could follow up on that particular threat.

"Dr McCoy is a very private man, Mr Cambell. It is his business to do as he wills. His expertise is not up for debate, you have my word on that. You will cease this insolence at once if you wish to continue your studies in this faculty."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," was the meek reply which gave eternal joy and a new found strength to McCoy for continuing his lecture.

,,,,

"That was a lecture they soon won't forget, McCoy. I think you mortified a few of my students into changing their majors" Ross quipped. "I must admit I never thought of death as another beginning myself. You sure you were not writing up stories in there my good man?"

"No, I am certain of what I said. Also, If they can't stomach the truth, then they shouldn't be here, to begin with," The doctor replied and stuffed his notebooks into his leather bound bag.

"You are a cruel man, McCoy. Sometimes I find it hard to believe you could actually be a doctor."

"My bedside manner is not a determinant for the quality of my medical capabilities," He said harshly as they continued down the university hallways. They were out of the stone building of Medical Faculty in mere minutes. For McCoy, the fresh air of Liverpool never felt better after being stuffed in that poorly lit room with a dozen men.

"Perhaps not, but they certainly do not improve your reputation, my dear friend." Ross was silent only for a second, then he fell prey to his own curiosity and brought up that certain subject, again. It would have been too much to ask for a peaceful moment, after all, McCoy thought. "How goes the search for your missing memories, then?"

McCoy let out an exhausted sigh. He hated agreeing with the little brat in the lecture hall, but other than the fate Ross had in him, he wasn't so sure he was qualified to be a doctor. He understood the reason for the people's wariness around him. He had no memories since he had woken up first on a shore unfamiliar to him, surrounded by half-dead bodies. Despite having no idea who he was or where he woke up, he had followed his instincts and had helped anyone and everyone in his reach. Later, he would learn that there had been an incident with a passenger ship, and Ronald Ross had been one of the survivors who hit the shore.

After resuscitating him and some other lucky ones, McCoy had promptly lost consciousness only to regain his senses in a hospital (The ward Ron was responsible for, to be specific). He would have been treated like any other patient with severe amnesia by being sent to the asylum but McCoy was no ordinary man. He was with no past and no substantial evidence to prove his existence but what he had was his magical fingers which seem to act on their own whenever he was faced with a medical dilemma. He had been lucky that Sir Ross hadn't thrown him out when he had started treating other patients in his ward when he was only another patient himself. McCoy had thought it was muscle memory which has been embedded in them through what must have been vigorous practice in the past even though he couldn't recall any of it.

The shine Ross had seen in McCoy had urged the man to keep McCoy nearby and allow him to practice under supervision for the majority of the time after his release. To both his and his supervisor's surprise, he had worked magic on many cases for most of the time and sometimes he was like a fish out of the water. He knew his way around a chemical set up like no other, but one mention of leeches and he was out of his depth. It woke an unbelievable amount of curiosity amongst the good doctors and practitioners in the hospital until Ross decided, one-sidedly, to take him under his wing until he recovered his brilliance. It had been a full year since then and McCoy was no closer to figuring out even his given name.

What was certain that he was a McCoy from a southern city in America, which he could not recall but had the accent to show for it, and he was a goddamn doctor. That was what every bone in his body was telling him and after his year long practice, he was certain of that. He just had to remember the blanks. He didn't want to consider not being able to.

In addition to that, he still felt a grave emptiness in his heart. He couldn't exactly put his finger on what it could be but the vast space was growing each day, pressing McCoy into remembering something that was at the tip of his tongue. Then retreating back until he was furious with himself for letting go of the memory.

"You have gone awfully quiet, doctor," Ross' voice cut his musings short. McCoy gave a pitiful, half smile at his saviour and climbed into to the carrier after the older gentleman.

It was well into their carriage drive that McCoy poured his heart out to his close friend and mentioned his worries. Ross put on a worried face and tried to console him to the best of his abilities.

"My dear man, you must have suffered a horrible ordeal to end up with such great deal of trauma. It may have been a year since our meeting, but do not succumb to desperation. We will figure out your past."

McCoy took a second to search Ross' big blue eyes, one shade too dark, and he could find nothing but sincerity tinged with curiosity. McCoy was fine with that. If curiosity meant, Ross was willing to hold on to a broken thing like himself, then he would gladly accept whatever favour Ross decided to ask him and stare into his soul with those shining orbs he called eyes. He wondered for a moment where that certain fascination came from but with the holes in his memory, he wasn't going to get any answers soon.

"I am really grateful that you welcomed me into your house and even school, Ron but I can't bring myself to hope anymore. I don't know how I would have survived if not for you. So thank you for everything but please, do not worry yourself over my concerns."

"Oh, please, " Ross laughed at McCoy and his formality "You have been a gift to us if I were so bold to say so. Not only you made a name for yourself as 'guardian angel' in the first week in a hospital where you were supposed to be the patient, but also saved my life and many others'. It is the least I can do to make sure you are well fed and clothed. Think nothing of it"

McCoy took his joy for what it was and teased the man, "You are only curious about my past, Sir Ross. An enigma practically gift wrapped and presented to you to solve."

"Indeed, I am," Ross agreed, "You are a mystery alright. And since the greatest detective of our times has passed away, it falls to the rest of us to investigate it. It might as well be me who solves it!"

"Who?" he asked, referring to the deceased.

"Haven't you heard? The great Sherlock Holmes, of course! And what a stomach-turning way to go..." McCoy raised an eyebrow at that. It somehow didn't sound right, but he was in no position to argue that with a strict follower of the detective's adventures. "Speaking of mysteries, my youngest boy wrote to me. It is a miraculous happening"

"Miraculous, indeed," McCoy replied with scepticism. From what he heard of the boy, emphasis on hearing because he hadn't seen him in the year that he was a guest in Ross' home, the boy was a rebel who didn't bother contacting his family other than emergencies. The good for nothing person in the family, so to say. McCoy may never have met the boy, but he didn't like him one bit.

"It was odd to receive a letter from him out of the blue but even odder that he hadn't asked anything from me directly either!" Ross said thoughtfully, not bothered by the harsh way their carriage shook and took turns.

"What did he want, then?" Because not wanting something directly was no better than asking for it bluntly.

"I was wondering how to break it to you. Well, his request involves you, I am afraid. He wants to meet you!"

"Why? What did I do?" McCoy asked, trying to control his stomach.

"I am sure nothing!" Ross chuckled at his defensive answer, "Apparently, he wants to see the person his father is rather taken with. He said he wanted to judge you for himself to see if you are worthy of being our guest."

"That little shit," McCoy swore and caused Ross to laugh harder "Sorry, Ron."

"It's alright, my friend. It is nothing worse than what I already call him."

"Ron, you know I am not after your family fortune or anything like that, right? I am grateful for you and your hospitality. I wouldn't-"

"Easy, McCoy. I know you better than I know my own son which is a pity but also the truth. You are an honest man who doesn't quite know how to trim a beard using a basic razor without nicking himself but was able to cut open a man's chest with mastery. I know your heart, my friend. I have seen it in its darkest state and I know as well as I know my own name that you wouldn't harbour any ill thoughts."

"Thank you" was all McCoy muster after hearing Ross' kind words about him.

"I am not finished yet. You embrace the duty of a doctor like no one else does, McCoy. We will help you to find the answers you seek."

"Physician, heal thyself" McCoy murmured, and laughed as if he told an inside joke.

"Indeed, my friend. Believe in that, if nothing else. Do you agree?"

"I don't think I am experienced enough to debate that sentiment, Ron. Not in this state of mind."

"It's an argument for a rainy day then."

"Agreed," McCoy smiled and returned to the pressing matter at hand "So, well, I don't want to meet your son, no offence. I don't want to get in between the two of you either. What do you think about it?"

"I'll be frank then. Meet him. It will be a good change of pace for you too. You barely got out of the house other than when I dragged you out, McCoy. You have the mind of a genius, but the social capacity of a crocodile. This might be the push you need to help you regain your social graces with people. Visiting your homeland might even jog your memories.

"It will also ease my wife's mind because that brat also wrote to his mother explaining his concerns and basically trapping me into asking you to do this. I am unwilling to let him meddle in with the rest of my affairs and turn all of our family against you." Ron made a strong argument from all sides.

"Well played if you ask me," McCoy replied tiredly.

"Oh, take his side, will you. I'll see what you have to say about him after you have met him" he replied, but his blue eyes were shining with what McCoy could only describe as hope. Whatever his expectancy was of him, probably to befriend the kid and help put him on a righteous path, McCoy feared of failing Ron. He owed him more than just money. A debt greater than that, which was his company, his devoted friendship. He didn't want to disappoint the man. If making Ron happy meant facing off a brat, then so be it.

"I understand. I own you that much," McCoy smiled, "Where and when do I meet him?"

"He is a crafty one. He wishes to meet you in our estate, abroad," McCoy's stomach lurched with that one sentence. " In Boston. I fear you will have to take that dreaded trip across the ocean, all the way to the states after all."


	3. Chapter 3

McCoy hated Ron's youngest kid. Even before meeting up with the brat, he came to the realisation that no child who was disrespectful towards their own parents was worthy of any praise. Regardless of how relaxed and happy Ron appeared in the aspect of the two of them getting together and bonding, McCoy was not so sure about actually getting along with him. Not to mention having to endure a ten-day long ship voyage across the Atlantic Ocean just to reach the kid's location. He really had to get back at the little brat for this stunt, if he managed to survive the trip to Boston.

The October air was not helping either. Sun was hidden behind the clouds, the wind was picking up and the wooden plates in and around the harbour were shaking with the force of the waves hitting at the ships docked. The sky was two seconds away from cracking up and pouring down. It all suited well for McCoy's mood. He could have been back at home with Ron enjoying this ridiculous weather, sipping their bourbons together and laughing away carelessly. Instead, he was being forced to wait outside on the planks, while the line to get into the steamboat ship was moving at a snail's pace. He hated the fact that he wanted to bolt and return to Ron's place as much as he wanted to get into the ship as soon as possible and be done with the whole ordeal.

Ron had accompanied him to the docks to see him off, and to marvel at the steamship S.S. Catalonia, freshly renovated and ready to take off on another voyage after a whole year. The man was very easy to impress where the boat was concerned but McCoy had found himself wishing for a more efficient, fast and secure transportation vehicle. Regardless of his doubts, McCoy could see the reason behind Roy's childish joy at seeing the steamship. It was long enough with three masts and one tall smokestack right in the middle. It was also large enough in bulk that it was steady against the winds more than the other ships in the harbour and McCoy held onto that fact, that it was slightly sturdier than others, like a lifeline. Still, he didn't feel like he belonged to that ship. Then again, he thought, no one should have to belong to any form of a shaky death trap which threatened to break down at the first sight of a storm.

He found himself imagining a bigger, shinier boat with grey painted exterior. Her inner corridors spacious and well lit. He wished to see a captain, young and confident, at the helm with a more than capable crew at his back; his smile so bright that it could even dazzle the stars up above and below. He could almost see a couple of blue eyes boring holes into his soul, and he would be attracted to them, being drawn to the man as if he had no say in it.

McCoy had to shake his head before his imagination could get the better of him. He returned back to the reality of the situation and hoped they would get on with the boarding already and leave the harbour before those giant, dark clouds could reach them. Luck was not on his side, though. It had been an hour since Ron left and the wind started to shift from mildly annoying to downright dangerous and they were still docked in the harbour, waiting to get seated. The real captain, an old white-haired man in a blue sweater, which presented a somewhat wrong image to McCoy, was shaking the hands of his first class passengers as they boarded the ship one by one. He had the urge to smack the Captain on the back of the neck and yell at him to hurry it up. Since he couldn't abuse the Captain, he settled on mumbling profanities at the weather and the ship under his breath.

"You know, these things are pretty safe. You are boring holes into the hull of the ship with your eyes but it is built to stand a little bit of rain" came a comment from a stranger who stood behind him. It took everything in McCoy to not to jump at the sudden voice. He refused to turn around and indulge the man with the deep voice who was standing way too close to McCoy for his liking.

"Sorry, you said something?" he retorted back, his heart still in his throat.

"S.S. Catalonia has completed successful voyages since 1881, she is capable of holding close to two thousand people, passengers and crew together. She'll hold up just fine in the Atlantic!"

"I'll believe it when I land my two feet on the solid ground on the other side of the ocean," he grumbled, "It's a disaster waiting to happen!"

"I hate to break it to you, but you'll be spending the next few days on that ship. You better lighten up before you jinx it."

"You know there are fates worse than death. Nevermind that, I'll tell you something about jinxes, kid," McCoy started and couldn't help himself but to turn around in order to properly relay his thoughts on the matter. It would be an underestimation to say that he was surprised to come face to face with two hauntingly beautiful eyes and a radiant smile, almost as if it was an image out of a dream. McCoy gulped at the sight of the young looking, blond man who was standing way closer than he had originally thought. McCoy took a step backwards and took in the appearance of the man, masking his gaze as a glare. He wore a well-pressed suit, a white shirt with a few buttons open and a loose vest which suited him well enough. The mask he put on failed as the man's smile grew wider and McCoy's brow raised as high as it can get on his forehead.

The blond man stood still as McCoy finished his inspection, and observed the doctor with a knowing smirk. "Would you mind taking a step back? You are crowding me," McCoy gritted out, trying to keep it civilised between them.

"Ah, next you are going to say you are not glad to see me at all!" The blond man sighed mockingly. McCoy simply feared for his mental stability.

"Sorry, have we met?" he asked. After all, he was the one with the certified head injury and a recovering amnesiac. If they had met before the accident, it wouldn't be McCoy who could recognise old friends. His suspicions were confirmed when he witnessed the hurt and the pained expression spread on the blond man's handsome face. McCoy scowled himself for thinking him as handsome, but it's not like he could help himself.

"You don't... I'm... What the hell?" the man stuttered spectacularly and McCoy watched as a million different emotions flashed on his face, his mimics becoming erratic and unpredictable as if the man was unable to stand still for two seconds. He decided to end his pitiful suffering and explain the reason why he couldn't remember jack shit.

"Don't take it personally, kid. I had an accident and had my memory wiped clean. So it's natural that I can't recognise you at all. Hell, I don't even remember my first name. So, if you know me then, by all means, help a guy out and introduce yourself, why don't you?"

"I... I see," the man replied with an apparently broken heart. McCoy wondered what kind of a relationship he had with him. "I'm Jim and you are Dr McCoy, right? From Ross' class. I had listened to your lecture a month ago. I guess it was presumptuous of me to think you would have remembered one of the students." That was sort of a disappointment, McCoy thought, it would have been nice to have someone hand over to him the answers he was looking for without having to try too much. But, it all turned out to be wishful thinking.

Yet, there was something eye catching about the man, Jim, and McCoy was certain there was a secret he was hiding from him. "I don't recall seeing you there, " he said with a solemn look, "Wait, you weren't that asshole who questioned my integrity, were you?"

"No." was the stern reply, but McCoy wasn't having any of it. Jim's face screamed of lies and bullshit.

"Did you bribe him to do so?" the doctor guessed and Jim turned pink.

"What? No, what makes you say that?"

"You just have the face, kid."

"No, I didn't bribe him. I'm not that low. I dared him to do it," he said while looking offended.

"Oh, so you are annoying and cheap. Good to know!"

"That hurts!" Jim whined and McCoy smiled briefly at his triumph.

"Why, though?" he asked as curiosity got the better of him. Jim was thoughtful for a moment. The line to the ship moved forward, breaking McCoy's concentration on the man. When he looked back, Jim was ready with an answer.

"Well, honestly, I am saying this because you are not a paid academic of the university, so keep it a secret but I wasn't really supposed to be there. I just got into to take notes for a friend. This asshole next to me had heard rumours about you apparently and I might have told him to take it up with you directly rather than bitch about it behind your back" That answer was surprising, flattering, diminishing and agonisingly honest all at one once. McCoy was not going to take offence on the rumours circulating himself, but he felt a pang of guilt that those same rumours were possibly inconveniencing Ron as well. He knew they existed, but he truly hadn't known there were students petty enough to try to tarnish a troubled man's name.

"Bitch about it?" he repeated after recovering from his daze.

"So to speak!" Jim said and forced a laugh out. McCoy only raised a perfect eyebrow at his expense. There was something captivating and odd about the man and McCoy wondered what it could be in the silence that followed.

A particularly strong wind blew his coat open and McCoy cursed, regaining his bearings in the mean time. "Thank you for sticking your neck out for me, then. I'll return the favour and keep your presence a secret. Just don't make a habit of it, I don't want Ron getting caught up in a mess that isn't his. He is a good man."

"Okey, I can do that," Jim promised with that bright smile of his and McCoy believed him.

"How did you like the lecture, then? I mean, did you even understand it? The medical track is not meant for everybody."

"Oh, it was gruesome. I lost my lunch and breakfast. Luckily, I am good at remembering the details so all notes are complete."

"I guess the real lucky guy is the one whom you took the notes for." McCoy laughed and was rendered speechless as he realised that he was smiling in the middle of an upcoming storm, about to board a tin can of a ship and half of him soaking wet because of the waves from the ocean. He decided to keep that revelation to himself for something in his gut told him that it would be a mistake to admit talking with Jim was actually making him feel better "What do you major in?"

"Oh, I graduated from my course more than two years ago. I was simply helping out a friend in need, you know. I am just that nice of a guy."

"I bet you are," McCoy replied sarcastically, then lowered his voice down a tone "Well, that's good of you to help out friends but don't help them too much. He won't learn anything on his own unless he attends the classes himself. I am personally not looking forward to students puking all over cadavers in the exam just 'cause they weren't there in the class to figure out they are not meant for medical school." McCoy became aware that he sounded like Ron and visibly winced at the aspect of turning into a nagging academician. He must not have liked his previous academic life since he subconsciously flinched at just the idea itself.

"Yes, I understand, but don't speak like you are way too older than me, man, " he said cheekily "We have what five, six years between us?"

"It's enough that you'll address me properly, Jim. Either as doctor or McCoy."

"If you wish to feel all the years of your age, then okay. As you wish, Dr McCoy," Jim replied and McCoy could feel a growing tension as they approached the captain. He decided to lighten the mood with starting a new topic of conversation himself. Ron would be so proud of him.

"You don't sound like you are from around here or anywhere in northern England. And I don't just mean the accent."

"Oh?" Jim looked just as surprised as Ron would have.

"Yeah, I can understand you for one thing. I might be living amongst the fine gentlemen of Liverpool, but well, let's say getting along with them and actually understanding a word they are saying are two different things. Speaking of which-" They had approached the end of the line and the Captain was smiling politely at the two of them. McCoy presented his documents and reached out to shake the old man's hand with a firm grasp before coming to a halt at the top of the gangway, looking warily up the ship hull at the other end of it. Grimacing on the aspect of entering the boat which was, in reality, a rather well-built steamship did weird things to McCoy's stomach. There were a few people climbing it up still, but as the wind blew stronger and the gangway swayed dangerously, McCoy found himself unable to move forward.

"Hey," Jim called out "I'm right behind you, McCoy. Don't divert your eyes from the top, and don't look down, alright? I got you."

"I don't need..." McCoy started, but he wasn't fooling anyone. Even the ship captain had a sympathetic smile directed at him. He had no choice but to clinch to the railings and pray to whatever God he could think of.

The walk upwards was slow and McCoy could imagine the exasperated sighs thrown at him from behind the line. The gangway threatened to give under his feet and he wasn't sure whether he was making that up or not. Unlike the weather, the warm hand placed at the small of his back helped him focus. He could feel the large hand caressing his skin over his coat with a kind manner so he had something to hold on to. Despite the fear bubbling inside, he kept his gaze glued to his target. He was shaking, god damn him, he knew, but he was going to make it to the top.

What felt like an hour later, he stepped onto the metal hull and let out a tired breath.

"I hate this," he whispered to himself and he was surprised when he heard a reply from Jim.

"I know... I mean, I can read it on your face, Doctor. I bet you get seasick, too!"

"Hey, if you are going to mock me then do so on the furthest side of the ship."

"No, no of course not, but they say that the best way to get rid of seasickness to remain hydrated, to get plenty of fresh air and to stand in the centre of the ship to ease your balance," Jim explained with kindness and McCoy found himself intently listening.

"I appreciate the tip, Jim," He said and took one quick look around. The wind picked up and the scents of the ocean and the fish-filled his nostrils. He felt dizzy for a moment, and not wanting to ridicule himself further, McCoy turned towards the corridor leading further into the ship.

"I'll see you around, yes?" Jim yelled from behind him. It was a miracle that McCoy heard anything but the echo in his head and the howling of the winds. He replied with a hand up in the air, acknowledging Jim and disappearing quickly into the ship. A guiding hand that wasn't Jim's assisted him towards his cabin and although he was grateful for it, he also was disappointed that it wasn't a hand as warm as Jim's.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite his better judgement, McCoy felt a surge of happiness when he was lead to his first class cabin. It was located in the middle of the ship with no windows but it was still clear that it was one of the best cabins that could be bought on board. It was large enough to house a single bed with white sheets, a large sofa, two small oil lamps situated by his bed and the basin and a small wardrobe. The floor was half covered in tiles with a new rug laid down on the other side. On his own, there could have been no way to cover for expenses of a sophisticated voyage to Boston such as this one. He'd have to sincerely thank Ron once he returned to Liverpool for his gesture.

His luggage which consisted mostly of clothing and other utilities provided by Ron, as well as a few basic medical supplies, had already been already carried in. The moment he locked up the cabin, ignoring his luggage, McCoy shed his wet coat and boots, placing them by the sofa. He then realised that even his shirt had gotten wet. He didn't hesitate to remove the rest of his clothes before dropping down on the bed and getting under the covers. If he was going to suffer through a ten day trip on a ship, he refused to do so while also being ill. To sleep would also help curing his seasickness, if only a little.

Momentarily, the ship shook while he was about to drift off and McCoy jolted awake. His trip had finally begun. As he felt the ship engines roar and plow through the ocean, he was happy to be away from the waves as humanly as possible. Sleep refused to find him for a long time. All his inner thoughts were muddled by the wrongness of the colour of the cabin and the hardness of his bed. He assumed it was due to getting homesick already, and missing the stable and secure room he had in Ron's house. He thought he was missing the wooden structure of his bed, the parquet flooring or the scent of the forest entering through his window. But alas, every time he closed his eyes, he kept seeing images of an unearthly design of grey walls, metal desks and bright rooms. It wouldn't have been so odd had he not also attempted to switch off the lights using his voice by mistake as if it was done out old habits.

He decided to focus on the tangible reality that he included in his last year. Despite the vast emptiness where once his memories resided in, he truly felt blessed for having met Sir Ron Ross and his colleagues when he did. He might not have any idea what he was doing lying face down on the shores of Crosby, alongside other esteemed passengers who survived a shipwreck tragedy, but it was made certain that he had not been one of them the moment he woke up and started talking. His heavy southern accent and a simple look at the passenger list of the sunken ship had proven that he was not supposed to be there. To some he was a stowaway who hid in the bowels of the ship for a free ride, but for others, who were kinder hearted people like Ron, he had been an exotic American with a bizarre fashion sense and a tragic past waiting to be unravelled. Perhaps Ron had that kindness to him because McCoy had saved his life on the beach and then shown to have a weird tendency to help other patients in the hospital he had been a patient of. Or it could have been his cool-headed mannerism, during the time when he wasn't spouting sarcastic comebacks, that convinced the man that he meant no danger to anyone. McCoy was actually certain that Ron had enjoyed his retorts more than he let on. Regardless of his reasoning, Ron had reached the conclusion that McCoy was a reputable physician who strongly needed help.

When he thought back on those first few weeks, where McCoy had been seconds away from being deported back to the USA, it hadn't felt right. McCoy didn't feel like it was the right answer to his long lost memories and without being able to pinpoint the exact origin of his whereabouts, no passport and no proof of existence, he was let into the care of one very excited Ron Ross. Ron's first advice had been following the evidence and do everything that felt right to McCoy in an attempt to jog his memories. Following the evidence, unfortunately, meant getting on a ship and crossing the ocean. Something McCoy didn't feel like the right answer. But now he had been forced to do just that because some young prick had doubted his honesty. He already spent too much time as a freeloader in Ron's house and even if he had been taking shifts in a few clinics, it hadn't covered the courtesy Ron had shown him.

Of course, he had to accept the request. He owed the man far too much, he reminded himself. Anything to justify this voyage, he added bitterly.

,,,,

By the time McCoy's stomach felt strong enough to leave the cabin, the sun had already begun to set. After putting on one of his better suits, an ironed shirt and a black vest, he checked himself in the mirror above the basin. He only looked slightly exhausted with puffy eyes. His trimmed beard and combed hair would definitely hide the fact that he had spent several melancholic hours on his own.

For a change, he was actually feeling good about himself as he made his way towards the dining saloon along the stale coloured long corridors, that it happened again. The vision. Or the proof of him losing his last bits of sanity. It didn't make sense that he expected to see the cabin doors to open with a swoosh nor to wait for the lights to go off on their own as he moved forward. At every corner, he was surprised not to see curvy walls stretching along grey mats and protective arches; a blinding white making up for the eternal darkness outside. At every corner, he reminded himself that those images didn't belong to the real ship and then, at the bottom of the stairs, he gave up.

The spiral stairs didn't help his hallucinations. It wasn't the conventional pathway to the saloon and was rarely visited by the guests. Rather it was more for the crew and those simple steps triggered the strongest urge in him to go up to the Bridge. He wanted to observe the vast emptiness of the sea from beyond the glass windows and quiver before the sight of unparalleled marvels. It was an odd need, a stupid one. A need he should not be having but there it was. As strong as the need to eat and sleep.

Was it related to his previous life? Maybe a simple obsession of his to explore and learn about the vessel he was in. Neither seemed likely and the latter didn't even sound like him.

Regardless of his reasoning, he stood, body half leaning over the railings and willing his itching to go away. He had to move forwards, towards the saloon and join the rest of the passengers while acting like a normal person. But, for the love of God, he couldn't make his legs move in the right direction so he remained at the junction. It took him too long to decide and eventually someone found him and if they were afraid of his troubled face, they didn't mention it.

"Lost or dizzy?" was the question instead and McCoy groaned in frustration, having realised who the voice belonged to. A warm hand was placed on his shoulder which relaxed him but he was in no way willing to admit that.

"Jim, right?" he asked because he had to. Because he apparently could not trust his own mind even only to follow a straightforward path. With a sigh, as he cracked open an eye just in time to catch the hurt spreading and disappearing on Jim's face. The damn kid had a face of million expressions per minute. McCoy was nowhere near being able to identify them all but facial expressions of confusion, hurt and forced happiness seemed to be constants for Jim. Now, that wouldn't do. One miserable soul was more than enough for one trip.

"Yes, doctor," the blond man replied as he flashed a tired smile. McCoy reciprocated the gesture and leant backwards from the railing. "Something on your mind?"

McCoy returned to Jim and regarded his grey suit somehow matching perfectly to his light beard tinged with white and bringing out the blue of his eyes. Jim knew how to dress to impress and McCoy felt a surge of pride in seeing this young man taking himself seriously.

"Only ever the usual," McCoy replied once he swallowed thickly and averted his eyes from Jim, "You? Are you having a nice evening?"

Jim perked up a bit, obviously waiting for him to ask him something "Better now. I was wondering, doctor; since both of us appear to be without an associate, would you like to accompany me to dinner?" McCoy's eyebrows rose up but his lips moved without his consent.

"You don't even bother to present your full name and you expect a man to trust you for the course of a whole dinner? Where has the youth gotten to these days? No manners!" he teased. Oh God, was he flirting with a stranger on a ship that would be sailing for ten days? He must have lost it completely to be so openly doing it then and there, fully disregarding the fact that Jim was a man.

Despite his inner panic, Jim took his flirting with a relative ease and flashed a dazzling smile. Okay, McCoy could definitely continue with this. No problem. And, oh, didn't that say a lot about the kind of a man he used to be.

"I could complain about the same, McCoy," Jim replied, unaware of his thoughts, "I haven't been graced with your first name either!" The man was a charmer alright and McCoy wished he had an answer for him but this was a delicate matter in which he was troubled with.

"Sorry to disappoint, kid. I can't share something that I don't know." he said off-handedly while trying to act casual. It must have failed because Jim's face fell.

"Oh, I didn't realise your amnesia was that bad. Well, what do you remember?" The question was as sincere as it got and McCoy had nothing to lose if he took Ron's advice and opened up a little. They had a long trip ahead until he reached solid ground and anything was better than spending that time alone. Also if this stranger helped with jogging some more of his memories then it would be a pleasant addition. So, he nodded, much to his companion's surprise.

"Sure, but let's do that in the saloon. I need some food in me."

Jim agreed and took McCoy's arm. He expertly led them to the dining saloon which was in the back of the ship. Two waiters opened the door for them, unaffected by Jim's strong clutch at McCoy's elbow. With curt nods, they allowed them into the large saloon decorated with fancy chandeliers, round luxurious tables, a group of musicians and a room full of well-dressed passengers. Everything was way too shiny and golden for McCoy's taste but he wasn't going to comply. Not when Jim dragged him to an empty table, closest to the centre of the ship.

"Where the balance is at its best!" Jim explained as they sat side by side.

"Jim, do you get seasick, too?" McCoy asked out of curiosity because there had to be a reason why Jim knew so much about it so that he actually reserved a table at a central location for himself.

"No," he laughed "but my table is open to anyone who may need it, Bones... I mean it's a strategically good position for bones and balance, you know. You are a doctor after all." McCoy made a face at Jim, not really understanding what he was going on about but he let it slide. He wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Having chosen to sit with his back to the wall, Jim made a point of showing the empty chairs on the side of the table and began describing the people who would soon occupy them. "They are nice people, mostly. Maybe Mr Scott is a bit too eager to overshare but you'll definitely get along with Madam Chapel!"

"How do you even know these people already?" McCoy questioned. In the last five hours or so, all he could have achieved was to take a nap, settle down his stomach and get redressed.

"I make a point of knowing everyone I share a table and a ship with. It's a force of habit I suppose."

"Oh?" was all McCoy could manage. He took a spoonful of his cold soup and wrinkled his nose at it but kept eating before coming up with an appropriate response, "How come?"

"It's supposed to be cold," Jim gestured at the soup and returned to gaze directly into McCoy's eyes, "As an answer to your question, doctor, there is but a simple answer. I'm a captain of a ship myself "

"Bullshit!" McCoy exclaimed at Jim's response, earning disapproving looks from the nearby tables and making Jim's hand falter midair. He decided to act a bit more diplomatic, "I do not mean any offence. You had mentioned that you graduated a few years back only. I don't think anyone would hand over a ship to a youngster like you."

"I literally have grey hair in my beard," Jim countered, he seemed more amused than offended which suited the doctor well.

"That proves nothing. It could be a hereditary trait."

"I'll have you know that I am the youngest ever to be made captain."

"That I would believe if you really are a captain."

"Fine, laugh it off, doctor. I'll prove it to you!"

"Can't wait to see it, kid," They both smiled at each other and focused on their meals for a little while. As per Jim's prediction, their table began to fill up with people which Jim was somehow already on first name basis. He distinctly heard Jim ask after Mr Scott and Madam Chapel but was disappointed to know that they would not be joining them that evening. The orchestra began their third song and everyone seemed at ease with each other, leaving a very confused McCoy to wonder how in Earth's name they got to befriend each other this quickly. They were mostly rich adults with no families close by. Some were in business' ranging from oil to enterprise, and none of them knew a lick of the medical studies, let alone being able to engage in any common topics. Oh, excuse him; an elderly couple was hell bent on criticising the dress of a young maiden by the corner seat. So there was that.

Beyond the chatter of the sophisticated people and feeling a little like an outsider and terribly out of place, he kept his gaze on his meal until a soft touch on his shoulder caught his attention.

"McCoy?" Jim had a concerned look plastered on his face and an angelic voice which promised an interesting conversation amidst the boredom that was their table. He turned to him a little too quickly. "I am sorry if this is a bore. I thought being among people would calm your anxiety."

"And help me forget that we are floating in the middle of nowhere with barely enough lifeboats and far too much turbulence? Yeah, yes, it's helping, for the most part!" Jim's laugh made him feel better.

"I want to ask you about your amnesia but it's overly crowded so instead of yelling your problems at me, do you want to go out to the deck? If it's no problem with you and your tummy?"

"Well, aren't you an adorable lil' captain, kindly asking after your people" McCoy teased and then nodded after seeing Jim's serious expression, "Alright, fresh air could do me some good."

"My thoughts exactly," he smirked with full white teeth and shot up from his seat "Ladies and gentlemen, please excuse us for the now and you all have a lovely night!" Along with Jim, McCoy relayed his good night wishes and followed the man out of the glass doors without missing a beat.

The moment the salty breeze hit McCoy, his shoulders relaxed and he revelled in the silence of the deck. He located a spot, with enough distance between the ocean and him, and sat on the closest metal bench. "Fresh air does wonders to my lungs. I can feel myself actually calming down, despite having to stare at absolute nothingness in the middle of a moonless night! Thank heavens for the oil lamps, yes?"

"Yeah," Jim replied, opting to stay on his feet and leaning on the railings, "Don't worry too much, McCoy. Nothing can hurt you on this ship. S.S. Catalonia is as sturdy and malfunction-free as she will ever be!"

"Unless we meet an iceberg halfway through!"

"What makes you say that?" Jim questioned.

"Nothing, just-" from a book he read? A news he heard? He didn't know for sure but it was all depended on chance, wasn't it? An unforeseen event that could doom every person on board. "a possibility" he finished for the sake of being pessimistic. Jim was not amused by his answer.

"Fear not, Dr McCoy. In case we hit an iceberg, I'll get you out safe and sound."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Captain" McCoy said heatedly and lowered his voice when he saw how dark the look on Jim's eyes got "Besides, I am way too old to be swooned by that kind of a promise anyway" That must have lightened him up because Jim let out a hearty laugh which also improved McCoy's mood.

This ship trip may not be as bad as he originally assumed after all. Then, Jim proposed something that managed to make it even more delightful and McCoy was eager to say yes, giddy with anticipation.

"Wait here," Jim requested and McCoy spent a few peaceful moments looking at the midnight sky. The stars shone brightly and he found himself wondering what it would be like to roam through the never ending space, amongst those stars. Then, he shivered at the idea of being in the darkness, facing off the unknown and he shook his head, clearing away the scary thoughts.

Jim returned soon enough. He passed a glass of bourbon to McCoy with a coy smile. McCoy was surprised to notice a silver glimmer from a ring on his pinky finger. He meant to ask about it but Jim took a seat beside him, his thigh touching the doctor's, effectively distracting him from any questions. The clinging of their glasses was the only sound on the deck; loud gulps and equally pleasant sighs over the fine taste followed as they sipped their drinks. They fell into a comfortable silence until Jim could no longer keep to himself.

"So, you want to talk about it?"

McCoy had only managed to take three sips before Jim's curiosity took over and he smiled at the blond man's impatience. "I can but the truth of the matter is I don't have much to tell."

"Try thinking about what you remember instead of what you don't. Familiarity may jog your memory," Jim replied. McCoy was ready to counter that but the kid had a point. By doing nothing, not even trying to remember, he wasn't going to regain any memories.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do," he said and gulped down a considerable amount of his bourbon "I recall waking up on a shore of Crosby. With me, there were a few people lying around, some dead and some still breathing."

"What did that feel like?"

"I was cold. So fucking cold. It was like waking up with death hanging over you, ready to take your soul to its eternal resting place. Knowing that some people around you were already nothing more than bodies, being moved only by the pull of the waves and thinking, believing that you were going to be the very next... It was terrifying."

"I am sorry, McCoy," Jim sympathised but McCoy shook his head. It wasn't his fault.

"I didn't die," He replied and watched as relief became apparent in Jim's eyes, "I woke up to screams and calls for help. I remember that it was dawn and there weren't that many people around but it was still so loud for the next few moments until I regained my full consciousness. You won't believe it, but my first instinct was to reach out to the closest body and try to resuscitate him. It didn't work. He was far too gone so I move on to the next person and by God's good grace, he woke up."

"I am in fact not surprised to hear that, doctor. Helping others is engraved in your bones," Jim interrupted and a blush crept up to McCoy's neck.

"I did what felt right. I was able to help some of them and even managed to calm one of the spectators enough to have her get some help from downtown. That was a feat like no other." McCoy laughed and took another sip, "One of the man I helped, Sir Ronald Ross, he was adamant on repaying his debt to me. I would have refused had I any idea who I was or how I got there but alas, I had neither the memory nor the money to survive on my own. So, he took me in and after he and his colleagues realised my penchant for the medical profession, they offered me a job at the clinic and later at the Victoria University. But the latter part lasted shorter than intended."

"What about in between," Jim asked as he swirled his drink in the glass, he appeared lost in his own thoughts "Did nothing seem familiar? No flashbacks or names or something?"

"No, nothing. Don't get me wrong, I knew things that no one could explain. The moment they put a scalpel in my hand, I could cut open any cadaver, I would be able to tell what a patient's problem was without even finishing up the preliminary examination. Not all of what I said made sense to the other doctors and professors. They must have thought that a part of the brain was scrambled from the trauma but they all agreed that I was at my best when I was performing a surgery. They were really all curious where I've practised before and I tell you, that's half the reason why they let me work with them for the last year."

"It must have been tough, not even knowing your name but being so efficient in your job."

"That must say a lot about my character, don't you think?"

"I think it says that you are damn good doctor, McCoy and they were lucky to have you save their asses when you did."

"I'll drink to that," McCoy raised his glass to cling it one last time before finishing off his bourbon. "Ron was kind enough to give me a home and even start an investigation to figure out my origin. He is obsessed with detective work. Nothing turned up but at least I had my name to give. Of course, I am not certain if I am really called McCoy or not but you make do with what you got!"

"Oh, you are definitely McCoy. If nothing else you look like one." Jim's input was as random as it was welcomed. Not that he would let it be known.

"Speaking of mysteries," McCoy echoed, Ron's words "Did you know that the detective, Holmes was dead?"

A sudden surprise appeared on Jim's face as McCoy observed his reactions "He was a fictional character, wasn't he?" he asked McCoy with both uncertainty and confusion.

McCoy suddenly clapped his hands and exclaimed "That's what I thought, too! I couldn't figure out how I would ever know something like that if I didn't already know about it from before I lost my memories!"

"So, you are remembering things!" Jim said with a hopeful tone.

"I believe so. I also knew I would get seasick without remembering boarding a boat before."

"It's a ship" Jim interjected and McCoy rolled his eyes at him "Perhaps you just need the right triggers."

"You sure you aren't on the medical track because you could have made a fine psychiatrist."

"Only fine?" Jim smiled smugly and McCoy almost instantly regretted complimenting him. When McCoy remained silent, Jim realised that he was afraid to confess something. He waited patiently as he too polished off his drink and turned to the doctor only to find him regard Jim with a deadly serious expression.

"I think I was a part of another ship crew in the past," he said much to Jim's surprise "When I was heading for the saloon, I had this silly urge to climb up the stairs to go to the Bridge for no reason. It was like I was compelled to do so as if I belonged there. I mean it makes no sense because I am sure of my profession; I am a doctor! I have no place on a bridge regardless of having worked on a ship. I just don't know, kid. Perhaps that explains why I was on that shore alongside other shipwreck survivors. Maybe I served on that ship as a physician?"

"Did you check the records of the sunken ship?"

"Yeah, Ron did. No records on any ship surgeon or physician on the ship... So that answers my question."

Jim placed his empty glass onto the bench and levelled McCoy with an equally serious face. He leaned in close, threw an arm over his back and gently squeezed McCoy's shoulder. "I think, McCoy, whether you were a doctor or not if you are a part of the ship and her crew then your place is in the bridge right by your captain's side. You shouldn't have to question that. A doctor is the heart of any ship, the one who keeps everyone alive including the captain."

"Who is the soul of the ship" McCoy finished, mesmerised by the unyielding gaze of the blue eyes, "You have very strong opinions on this subject"

"Yeah, you have no idea!"

"Which ship's soul are you then, Captain?" McCoy teased, remembering the man's earlier claim, but Jim didn't appear to be joking around.

"One that is already sailing amongst the stars but hasn't been built yet" Jim answered and McCoy snorted loudly. The simple touch on his shoulder which was grounding him to reality assured that McCoy wasn't hearing things but he made a point of laughing at his companions expense. He had to respond without breaking his heart somehow and he figured that telling Jim that he was insane wasn't the best way to do that.

"That makes no sense, Jim." he said jokingly and took the opportunity the let out a long drawn sigh "So, the doctor of a sunken ship and the captain of a nonexistent ship meet up. What do you think is the end result going to be?" It was a rhetorical question but unfortunately, the answer was not.

"Together, they are going to break into the Bridge!"


	5. Chapter 5

"Are you out of your God damn mind?" McCoy hissed in return to Jim's suggestion of breaking into the Bridge. It felt comfortable to be glaring at the young man.

"You need a trigger to remember. If you follow your urges," Jim swallowed thickly, "and take them into account, then the Bridge is the perfect place to start!"

The hand on McCoy's shoulder disappeared but the warmth remained, pulling him in Jim's direction. He followed Jim as he got up and stood close to the man, their chests almost touching with each breath.

"Kid, you certainly had your fill with alcohol tonight. Bridge isn't the kitchen, you can't just waltz in and demand a tour and you are thinking about breaking in? There is bound to be people around. No one is going to let you get away with it!"

"There better be people or we'll all be in trouble," Jim replied without flinching at their closeness. "Come on, it'll be fun!"

Without waiting for a reply, Jim took off towards the door, leaving a gobsmacked McCoy behind. This was insane, McCoy thought but his legs moved on their own accord once again. There were questions as to why he followed this clearly insane person around, but in his guts, McCoy felt it be the right thing to do. So he went after Jim and caught up with him at the base of the staircase. A radiant smile greeted him and in a millisecond they were off once again. This time together.

Their first destination, much to McCoy's surprise was the crew quarters on the lower deck. Under two minutes, Jim had figured out the schematics of the ships and lead him to one of the empty cabins on the lower deck. He left McCoy there, who was practically about to have a heart failure. Once Jim returned McCoy didn't hesitate the smack his head for leaving him alone but seeing as Jim carried two white sailor uniforms with him, McCoy couldn't be too angry for the moment. He reluctantly followed Jim's lead again and changed into his rather well fitting outfit.

"I must say, McCoy I like your vest and all the Victorian attire but man, the uniform is definitely something else on you" McCoy tried not to blush like a damned teenager and decided to walk past Jim, in hopes to hide away the redness of his face. Jim, the observant asshole that he is opted to giggle at the sight instead of acting like a mature adult McCoy mistakenly thought he was.

"This way," Jim instructed once he quieted down, "Now, walk like you mean it; You have been walking down these halls all your life. Stick close to the shadows. If they don't realise something strange with someone in uniform, then they won't pay attention to you."

"This is not right. We'll get into a hell of a lot of trouble for this. We'll be booted off the ship, damn it! Why am I even following you?"

"Because you are just as curious about the result!"

But, wasn't that the truth, McCoy thought to himself. By some sheer luck, the crewmen they encountered was limited to two people and as Jim had predicted, they ignored them other than to give solutes. By the time they reached the Bridge's half open door on the upper deck, McCoy's heart was on the verge of jumping out of his chest.

"Relax," started Jim, very unhelpfully "We'll peak inside quickly and then leave!"

"Fine, damn it! We are here anyway. Lead the way!"

Upon the final steps, with a small push of his fingertips, the heavy looking door opened further to reveal an understaffed bridge, complete with its three-way windows overlooking the sea, the basic engine control gauges and a crew of three. "Where is the steering wheel?" McCoy whispered and Jim turned to him with a face that said, do you really have no idea how this works?

"In the wheelhouse, obviously," he mumbled back.

Keeping to the darker side of the door and poking his head from above Jim's back, McCoy observed the crew with a new found resolve to remember something, anything. There was an odd combination of crew members all clad in white; A young black woman who stood stiff like the world did her wrong and she vowed to take revenge on her; An Asian man who hid his face behind the white cap and watched the gauges like his life dependent on it; And finally, an extremely young man who was the only one currently talking like he swallowed up a steam engine with an accent that McCoy didn't understand. He spent a solid two minutes wondering why the ship's helm consisted of a random selection of people he was not expecting to see and then it was everything that was supposed to be. Seeing it was like waking up in a dream while he still being asleep and finding out that there was a better life somewhere else that was out of your reach, somewhere you were no longer allowed to yet. He shivered and felt Jim's eyes on him.

McCoy felt a hand creeping up on his chest until it found purchase between his neck and shoulder. The simple touch was almost as if an anchor was cast into the sea of his soul and grounded the ship that was his body. He felt no tremors, heard no sounds of the waves crashing against the ship and he saw not the dimly lit, green coloured room but a larger, more sophisticated bridge with blinding lights. For a comforting second, McCoy was at home and no matter the truth of that moment, he recognised the feeling of belonging couldn't be faked nor forgotten.

"Are you with us?" he heard Jim whisper and close the door a little, obscuring his vision of the room. McCoy remained in his self-made mirage.

The crewmen didn't appear to notice them and as he was about to declare this an overly dangerous waste of time, Jim decided to step forward into the cabin. His movement awakened him from a daze and he reached out to grab an hold of Jim's arm. He hadn't even realised that he had shrieked until every person in the room was looking right at him.

"You know, it goes against the whole idea of sneaking around when you scream," Jim said sweetly but his eyes were speaking of the horrors he momentarily wished to impact upon McCoy. McCoy simply glared in return.

"I know, I know," Jim started to talk but not at McCoy, "I am not supposed to be here!" He lifted his arms in surrender and opened his mouth to explain but the black lady beat him to him. She glared at Jim with such ferocity that it made McCoy proud and she walked right up and into Jim's personal space like she meant business.

"Your shift does not start until next afternoon, Captain." Her accusatory voice was not what surprised McCoy, "You have to follow the procedure if you wish to complete this ordeal with success, sir."

"Wait, what?" McCoy stuttered causing the young lady to direct her glare at him. It should have at least slowed him down but that day wasn't one of his preserve your life days. "You were being serious! You really are a captain? And the captain of this ship, on top of that? What about that other man in the blue outfit, shaking everyone's hands?"

"He is one of our janitors, Mr Jenkins. He came with the ship when we took over after the last crew and he likes to play pretend every now and then, so we let him."

"Unbelievable. And, you are the real deal?"

"It is hard to believe, isn't it?" the lady agreed, much to Jim's dismay "He even has the gall to drag around civilians in unauthorised sections, without permission."

"And, makes up stories about flying ships and being in lecture rooms, too" McCoy added.

"I didn't!" Jim countered with an innocent face that wasn't fooling anyone, "I really attended your lecture, doctor. It's your own fault not to have realised man with such a handsome face was involved with your class."

"Perhaps your face is more ordinary than you think it is, and that's why I didn't notice you!" The poorly attempted comeback made the woman smile behind her hand as her captain scowled at McCoy.

"You take that back!" As McCoy shook his head as a no, Jim returned back to his officers "You should resume your duties, Lieutenant" he ordered childishly. He heard muzzled giggles from behind her.

"As you wish, Captain," she smiled professionally, McCoy was very impressed with her "I am Nyota Uhura, doctor and these are helmsman Sulu and Chekov. If the Captain has brought you up here then it must be with good reason. Welcome aboard."

McCoy nodded at all three crewmen and cleared his throat "Call me Leonard, darlin'. Leonard McCoy. Appointed ship physician of another ship, I think."

"Hey! Did you just recall your first name?" Jim exclaimed from beside him and relief washed over him as he realised that yes, he indeed had and he was fairly certain the name really belonged to him.

"You think, doctor?" echoed the Russian boy, Chekov, as he fidgeted on his spot.

"Yes, Dr McCoy had an accident which left his memories in shambles" Jim jumped in to explain his situation while McCoy, no Leonard, sent a glare his way, "So, I thought it would help him recover them if he was in familiar places in the ship."

"We are sorry to hear that, doctor," Sulu chipped in and they all appeared genuinely distraught by McCoy's condition. Not knowing how to accept everyone's sympathies, he nodded his thanks again.

"So," he started to fill in the awkward silence "Jim if you are the Captain of this ship, why the hell did we bother with sneaking around?"

"I like to keep my crew on their toes. You all failed, by the way, to notice us. Until Leonard let out that ungodly shriek. Minus points to you all. Good night!"

As Jim stormed out of the bridge, McCoy slowly smiled at the crew. Their amused faces was a sign which convinced him that this was a usual display of drama around the ship. He followed the captain out after bidding his own good nights. Unfortunately, by the time he made it to the end of the corridor, Jim was nowhere to be found.


	6. Chapter 6

The morning arrived sooner than anticipated. McCoy, no Leonard, (I am Doctor Leonard McCoy, damn it!) hadn't the chance to properly appreciate his bed nor his deep, dreamless sleep before he stirred awake unwillingly. The reason he was so rudely woken up at the crack of the dawn was not because of his body clock warning him about the upcoming day nor was it a gentle beam of sunlight gently bathing him with warmth. No, it turns out those would be too normal. No, he had to be wake up to the sound of his own god damn name being chanted to him, over and over again while being accompanied by an insistently annoying, constant knocking on his cabin door.

He tried to ignore the sounds, he really did. He was a poor man who hadn't hurt anyone to deserve such a punishment. He had no god damn reason to open his damned eyes. The chanting continued regardless with a newly found ambition. So much so that Leonard considered giving his name up once again, if only it meant the son of a bitch at the door would shut up. Of course, Leonard willing it away wouldn't break their spirit; if they were awake out of their own accords at this time of the day, then they probably didn't have a soul that could be bartered with.

Begrudgingly, he realised that he was not a morning person at all. Cursing at his bad luck, he got off the bed and opened the door, if only to yell at the person on the other side of it. The wonder of wonders, it was Jim... With his goofy, radiant smile, bright eyes, properly pressed ensemble, well-combed beard and hair. Jim, who had the audacity to stand before him, expecting a warm welcome from the dishevelled doctor who still clutched his pillow.

McCoy shut the door back and threw himself back onto his bed. He might have heard a yelp or it might have been a product of his dreamland, he didn't know, he didn't care. All he wanted to do was to sleep. It was simply too early to exist.

Jim disagreed and took his hostility as a challenge. He let himself into the cabin despite McCoy's half-hearted protests. "Go away!" he garbled into his pillow, "Can't you get a hint?"

"You are so not a morning person, Leonard," he heard glass clinking and a deep, almost worn-out sigh.

"You think, genius?" he replied, desperately ignoring a beautiful scent which was filling the room.

"I've missed your grumpiness first thing in the morning," came the mumbled response and Leonard blinked, wishing himself into awakeness "So, I brought you coffee. You need it. You know, I thought I would be a nice, responsible Captain and apologise to you face-to-face for slightly deviating from the truth, yesterday."

Leonard pulled himself up to a sitting position and eyed the coffee on top of the table. As he made grabby hands towards the hot drink, Jim indulged him and passed him the cup obediently. His hands lingered a bit too long over Leonard's, making sure his hold on the cup was steady or at least masking it with that excuse, but either way Len wasn't in any position to notice it.

After a few sips and a drawn out sigh later, McCoy opened his eyes properly and regarded the Captain once more. He was sitting relaxed and sprawled all over Leonard's sofa. He came to the conclusion that If there was another door between them, he would gladly smack the door on him again. Then again, coffee. It was a nice gesture of him. He could forgive Jim and at least hear out his apology just for that.

"Two things," he started and pinched the bridge of his nose "First, what do you mean face-to-face? It's not like you can send a telegraph to my room over night. Secondly, slightly deviating from the truth? Why don't you call it what it is, blatantly lying! Oh, and a third thing, you wanna apologise; come back in six hours."

"I can't," Jim replied with an amused face, "I'll have my next shift then and one cannot simply go up to the Bridge untimely where Uhura spends most of her time without running the risk of becoming fish chum."

"Are they all so bossy and terrifying?"

"What, my crew? My good man, you have not met the worse one yet!" Jim smiled fondly and Leonard found himself wanting to be a part of that crew if only it meant that Jim would smile brightly when he thought about Len too.

"Isn't it odd at this time and age to be ordered around by a woman, your own lieutenant no less?" McCoy asked while yawning.

"Is that what you really believe?" Jim snapped suddenly and Leonard raised his gaze to meet his.

"That's what everyone is saying, kid but what do I know? I am not even capable of dreaming without mixing it up with reality."

"Then, I suggest you start thinking for yourself, Dr McCoy," Jim replied in a dignified manner and McCoy was too taken aback with his change in demeanour and perhaps even ashamed of his own assumptions that he replied instantly.

"As you say, Captain."

"Since we are on agreeing term," Jim began with much more enthusiasm than a second ago "Allow me to escort you to breakfast. You can tell me all about your weird dreams and regained memories."

"How did you know I did?" McCoy asked as he gave up on his much-needed sleep and moved toward the basin to wash his face.

"You'll be surprised as to how" was all Jim had to say about it. Leonard shook his head exasperatedly, sending water droplets from his hair across the room. He was being additionally dramatic because of the lack of sleep rather than annoyance with Jim. Hell, he even thought that it was kind of nice to have someone look after him, shower him with morning coffee and deal with his morning personality, which was feared by most, expertly. He didn't say he liked Jim per se but it definitely was a nice change to interact with someone other than Ron.

A bunch of clothes were shoved into his arms, as he closed his eyes tiredly, lost in his thoughts. His hold on the clothes was slack but Jim was standing right in front of him, while his left hand was keeping the garments steady and the other one was gently removing Leonard's wet hair from his forehead. He felt his shoulder relax, ready to curl around the warm body before him. Instead of acting on his impulses, though, he simply chose to remain on his spot, letting Jim do what he wanted. It was an intimate moment, Leonard realised but did nothing to stop Jim from caressing the side of his hair. The movement was familiar, it felt right and he blamed his half asleep brain for that, too.

A moment too soon, Jim retracted his hands. Leonard found himself opening his eyes, despite wanting to continue the dream. The captain stood by the door and spoke loudly "There you go, doctor. It's a beautiful day to be up and about and it's the best kind of open waters a captain could ever hope to sail on. It'll be a waste to sleep it away."

McCoy nodded towards him. Both of them pointedly ignored the over-friendly moment they just shared and Leonard focused solely on putting his shirt on as Jim counted the scratches on the cabin door.

,,,,

The journey to the saloon was less awkward than the weird atmosphere in his cabin. Leonard was actually grateful for every single passenger who stopped and greeted the captain on their way to their seats. Breakfast itself turned out to be a fantastic idea when he was presented with a plate filled with scrambled eggs on toast, roast beef and griddle cakes served alongside a large cup of black coffee which in his humble opinion was the best part of any course.

Jim was quite pleased with his given meal as well, having been served smoked red herring. Although Leonard was almost certain that the Captain was not meant to be eating every meal alongside his passengers, instead of with his crew, he wasn't going to mention it anytime soon. Neither would their group that they were sharing their table with. The people who were at the dinner were again in their spots during the breakfast and Leonard recognised some of the familiar faces from the night before. Some of the others were absent but were replaced with new friends which he was introduced to. He wasn't going to remember their names either so, he kindly nodded at them and observed Jim from the corner of his eye.

The Captain was hurriedly explaining something about the ship to a curious elderly man. Leonard didn't understand a lick of what Jim said but his smile was contagious. He was practically glowing in the morning light. Soon, everyone on the table was mirroring his pleasant smile and intently listening to him. Even Leonard couldn't help but be captivated by him. Eventually though, even Jim had to rest his throat muscles. Once the silence ruled over their table, everyone was able to finish up their meals.

"Well, this has gone cold," Jim poked the remains of his fish with his fork and made a face. They were one of the few ones left in the saloon as everyone had already gone out to the deck to enjoy the rarely seen sun.

"That's what happens when you neglect your food." Leonard pointed out the obvious. He then proceeded to look at anything but Jim and his endearing pouting face. "Nine days more of this view and people, hm?" he mumbled.

"More or less. If spent with a desirable companion, I can assure you that it'll feel a lot less like a choir and more like a vacation," Jim said while pushing away his offending plate.

"Would that desirable companion be you, Captain?" Leonard asked because why not.

"If you wish," was the shy reply he received and honestly, he wasn't prepared to witness the blush spreading across Jim's neck nor the shine in Jim's eyes that he couldn't seem to decipher the meaning of.

,,,,

McCoy would never admit it out loud but he almost missed Jim's presence in the afternoon. He, of course, knew exactly where to find the Captain and the itch persisted for him to go to Bridge every time he was left alone with his thoughts. He was more resilient than he gave himself credit for and he managed to keep himself busy when his mind took a dangerous turn in the labyrinth that was his scattered memories. He visited his cabin, put on a vest and a cravat, somehow alienating himself further from his dreams he had while he was awake. He lurked around, discovered the magnificent books hidden away in the library. The significant increase in the number of people who acknowledged and greeted him as he stalked the decks, also helped and he couldn't find it in him to irritated by anyone of them. He blamed Jim for it.

As a man used to solitude, it got a bit scary when he noticed that he was grateful to be called into join a poker game in the middle of the game room, complete with whisky servings and small plates of fancy food which Leonard was sure he had never tasted before in his life. He didn't even notice the way the ship shook with an oncoming storm and enjoyed a fine game with people he barely knew but was not above collecting their cash. Who would have guessed, Dr McCoy was savage when it came to card games, reading people and sweeping the floor with their mock tears.

That's how Jim found the doctor early in the evening. Joyful, a little bit drunk and having the time of his life (at least the time of his life in the last year). The captain's shift wasn't done yet but when he heard the whispers of one of this crew about how the passengers and some of the crew were getting in line to try their luck against McCoy's, he could not help himself. He had to come down and see the miraculous event with his own eyes. And, there he was, a cigar propped on the ashtray by his side, the first two buttons of his shirt undone but the rest firmly tucked away in his waistcoat and that finely trimmed beard untouched by grey was all in that scene Jim could have ever ask to witness.

It took him a split second more to decide on his next act and make a move towards the crowd around Leonard, only to be stopped by a strong hand on his elbow. Instantly he was pulled out of the room and was forced to walk away from his target.

"Not again, Spock! You have got to stop this, man" he hissed at his first officer 's face. They abruptly came to a halt around the next corner and Jim crossed his arms, expecting an explanation from him.

"As you well know, Captain, you are on duty and you should act accordingly if you wish to remain undercover for the duration of our voyage," he said monotonously and Jim rolled his eyes at him.

"I am perfectly aware, Mr Spock but there is no harm done in enjoying it, now is there?"

"Perhaps not for you," Spock started without batting an eyelid "Yet, forcing Dr McCoy's memories to the surface may have adverse and irreversible effects on the good doctor. His mind is in a fragile state. I suggest we follow our schedule and allow him time to heal. You shouldn't aggravate his condition more in the mean time and remain vigilant. Now, more than ever."

"You are right, Spock," Jim swallowed hard, of course, Spock was right. Jim was being a selfish bastard, hoping and forcing a memory out of McCoy when he clearly had a difficult time remembering anything. Not to mention that he was probably believing that he was going mad rather than regaining his memories of a ship flying in outer space and what not. Jim felt the need to hit his head on a nearby wall at his stupidity. He refrained from actually doing so instead, he raked his fingers through his hair, sighing resignedly.

"It's just that," he started and turned to Spock "he is right there, you know! He sees me, knows who I am but he doesn't recognise me at all! It's frustrating not just to be forgotten but also be ignored. Our relationship has gone back to what it was in the first year of our Academy and it is actually worse. Because I know everything we are when we are together and everything more we can be but he isn't even allowed to think of the possibilities because the people in this era are dipshits who take pleasure in condemning love!

"Seeing him but not being able to touch. Fearing that he will flip out on me if I do one thing out of order in this fucking primitive age. It's eating me alive to see him smile more when I am not there as opposed to when I am with him. Subconsciously or not he seems so pleased and relaxed and I am sick with worry that his brain is going short circuit and he is going to end up having a seizure. If this is what he feels like every time I do stupid shit, then no wonder he is a nervous wreck most of the time! God, do you understand what I feel, Spock?"

"I understand that you feel frustrated at Dr McCoy and his inability to remember and therefore care for the real you. If you are asking whether I comprehend the feeling you are having at this, then the answer is no." Jim huffed and leant back on the near wall. What was he expecting? It was impossible to get his point across.

"Yet," Spock began again "I find myself puzzled with your frustration more, Jim. It is not the doctor's fault that caused his mind to have such an affliction. From what I observed, he is hurt and confused. I assumed in the face of this, you would have acted with more care."

A pang of guilt hit Jim hard and he followed on his earlier suggestion. Resting his forehead on the cool surface, he closed his eyes and draw strength from simply truths; like when Bones leant his head towards his touch without flinching or how Spock was able to remain calm when he was ready to lose his shit. He recalled Uhura's kind, dependable touch on his shoulders and Scotty's promise. He reminded himself how everyone in the Enterprise was willing to join him in order to bring their grumpy CMO back with no complaints nor hesitation.

"I just miss him so much, Spock," he whispered brokenly. The hand between his shoulder blades provided more comfort than he would ever need.

"That feeling, Captain, I am familiar with."


	7. Chapter 7

It had been a whole day since Leonard had last seen the Captain. After the dinner and the breakfast they shared together, he had assumed that he would be seeing Jim more often than catching glimpses of him every now and then. First, he was curious as to why Jim hadn't come by their table for the dinner. Even the other passenger had no idea why he wouldn't join them, especially after going through so much trouble of making friends with each one of them.

Later, he grew concerned. Jim might have been a captain but he still seemed like an overexcited kid to Leonard and overexcited kids tended to put themselves through all sorts of difficulties. He decided to check on him but he was faced with the major problem of not knowing where Jim's great cabin was. His one chance to find the guy was to go to the Bridge and that was a scary thought. He already tried it once and even with having an already existing pull towards that room, he was reluctant to follow through that idea.

Then the day turned and a late breakfast was eaten alone because first class passenger were morning people unlike McCoy and had already finished their meals and moved on to brunch. He found the peaceful change somewhat boring and eventually, dragged himself to read a book in the crowded game room, the lively background sounds soothing him. When those noises grew too much to bear, he put the book down and turned to leave the room. He made it as far as the door before a blond lady in a blue dress stopped him. He was pleasantly surprised as she introduced herself as Madam Christine Chapel, a widower who used to be a nurse in St George's Hospital, and he recalled her name being mentioned by Jim during their dinner conversation.

He hadn't meant to join and play the game of poker for as long as he did nor drink as much as he had but their conversations with Madam Chapel was beyond riveting as well as refreshing. He could tell that no one around them could keep up with their medical jargon and it was rather amusing to watch them as they exchanged theories and ruled the game equally at the same time.

He had a great time for a while but the absence of a certain someone dampened the joy he felt. It really didn't make much sense; why pin over a guy he barely knew, for no more than a day? Then again, little made sense in Leonard's life so why start now? Why not stay with this lovely lady who enjoyed his non-sophisticated topics of choice? Why not stay where he was and grab his cards once more, handing everyone their asses back to them? Why not have another drink and laugh away with the relaxed participants of the game who didn't mind losing their dimes; Instead of, going off to his room, changing into his stolen (no, borrowed) sailor uniform and sneak into the restricted area?

Oh, wait perhaps that last drink was a bit too much. Like the final droplet on the glass that spilled and jogged him into action. Reminding him that he had very little to lose, and a lot more to gain had he managed to find Jim. He didn't really know what he was going to gain with this per se but some good was bound to happen. Right?

So, in his white trousers, the blue striped jacket and the hideous cap, he went off to the Bridge. It was a big ship, he realised but it wasn't a labyrinth. He could navigate his way through the corridors and the crew only areas just as easily even though the ship had begun to sway with increasingly dangerous angles. He would later blame the drink for that added effect to his poor, throbbing head. But first, he wanted to indulge himself and reach that Bridge once more. He didn't notice when his objective shifted from finding Jim to visiting the Bridge but it almost felt like the same thing to him. He imagined the Captain in gold instead of blue and a big flashy chair that didn't appear the least bit stable. He could hear Uhura on Comm unit conversing, no communicating with others. He heard someone calling out to him but with a wrong name; Bones, they said but it meant nothing to him. He could see flashes of blue, red and most predominantly yellow colours running around in the Bridge. Something called a Spock, giving him a nasty look for being there instead of down in the Medbay and a blur of emergency lights flickering. Then, it all went to Hell. A bad memory, he recognised one second too late. His world swirled downwards as he did.

He gathered himself in a moment, though. As the shadows at the corners of his eyes cleared up, he picked himself up while massaging his temples. The sudden change in the scenery did little to help ease his headache but Leonard was resilient if nothing else. He dusted off his trousers, straightened his back, turned around and bumped straight into Jim.

"This isn't what it looks like," he whispered as Jim only raised his eyebrows and brought up his hand to his mouth. Leonard's face was going through four different shades of red as Jim laughed at his expense.

"I am guessing you enjoyed your day, Doctor McCoy," came the muffled response. Leonard was already regretting this day so much.

"Shut up, kid. It's your fault."

"Oh, how so?" Jim said and to his credit, he stopped laughing as well. Leonard pondered on the answer and reached the conclusion that it was worse to admit that he had been worried about Jim than to lie. So he lied.

"I grew fond of the uniform," Jim wasn't impressed with him even when he elaborated "Also, I figured it might help me remember the past if I repeated what we did before."

"Did it work?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Maybe no, I am not sure."

"What was it?" Jim kept on asking and Leonard sighed. The captain had a look of distress that he couldn't ignore.

"Explosion, death, mayhem... the usual stuff of nightmares." He honest to God flinched at that, physically moving backwards from Leonard to take a deep breath in and relax his shoulders. Leonard observed the movement with his eyes. He wanted to pull him close and whisper that everything was going to be okay, whether he believed it or not.

Before he had the chance the act on impulse, someone else emerged from the shadows, nearly stopping his heart. Lieutenant Uhura greeted him with a fake smile that spelled trouble for him and Jim both. Leonard smiled back and gestured a sign that hopefully conveyed his apology. It didn't.

"Doctor, I appreciate you bringing back the uniform our dear Captain borrowed," she said, her tone clearly implying that it was stolen rather than borrowed and she was not happy with that fact. "but next time, try to take it off first. It'll be a lot easier to return it back to its owner."

"Right, that's what I was doing. Too bad, I had one too many to drink and forgot to not wear them," Leonard mumbled much to Jim's delight.

"Of course," Uhura responded sweetly (which terrified them both) and dragged Jim by the arm to stand by McCoy "How about our Captain walk you back to your cabin and help you out?"

"Right, help a guy out, will ya?" he parroted and grabbed Jim's free arm. "That a problem, darlin'?" he added teasingly because alcohol was still roaming in his system and he clearly had no such thing as a mouth filter. Even though they were about the same height, Leonard had to gaze up into the blue eyes that reminded him so much of the sky, gauging Jim's response. Trying to figure out whether he was going over the board with this.

"How drunk are you?" was not what he was expecting to hear.

"Pfft, I am not," Leonard shrugged but did not remove his arm "It's the sea and the memory bomb that dropped on me. It's more exhausting than I thought it would be."

"Are you alright?" Uhura asked with concern.

"Thank you, I am alright, Nyota darlin'." He bowed a little and pointed an accusatory finger at Jim "You see, you brat, that's how you react to a poor man, having trouble standing up. Not by giggling at them."

"Yes. Yes, I am an ass." Jim rolled his eyes at him.

"Did you remember something?" Uhura asked. Like the captain, like the lieutenant, Leonard supposed. They were of the same breed of curious cats.

"Nothing legible." He shrugged and then added "Almost. There was something about a Spock. I don't know what it is but it was damn annoying!"

"You remembered him?" The speed with which Jim whipped his head at him, scared Len into thinking that he broke his neck but the captain was alright. He was just mortified; looking like a rabbit caught in a trap. "Of all the people in the universe, and his name is the one that pops up into your mind? Unbelievable!"

"So, Spock's a he? As in a person?"

"Yes, Doctor McCoy and apparently he is your damn best friend..." Jim snapped and realised what an actual ass he was being. He tapped his feet on the ground, "Sorry, that was petty of me. Commander Spock is my first officer. I had mentioned him before to you. You probably mixed it up with your old memories."

"I don't-" Leonard started but then a sudden flash of a moment when Jim complaining about someone called Spock came back to him. There were drinks in their hands, a dark night and endless stars before them. A view that mimicked the darkness of the night, as if they were standing in between the stars and not below them. On a deck? In a ship? Could it really belong to the night before? Or was it someplace else?

"Take it easy, Bones," he heard and whipped his mind back to reality. Jim had wriggled his arm out of Leonard's grasp but he was standing close with a hand behind his neck.

"Is that the prickly bastard who doesn't know how to switch off and I quote who likes to keep it neat and never cut you some slack? That one?"

Jim was about to agree and praise Leonard but a sudden chill filled the room, instead "He... uh."

"He is right here," said a figure from behind Leonard who swore to God was going to die that night if every crewman persisted on sneaking up on them.

"Yes, that he is," Jim forced a smile, "This is Commander Spock, McCoy. Is he everything you remember him to be?"

Oh, Jim was being a little shit, Leonard figured and decided not to indulge the infant in his plays. Instead, he turned to the stoic man and greeted him kindly. This Spock was paler than anyone McCoy had ever seen. He was tall and had a weird-ass long hair style covering his ears, which was not regulatory for sailors and alike. His blue frock coat was similar to Jim's but the white vest he wore underneath did nothing but contribute to his ghost-like features. More importantly, he had a face that said, come punch me at once. Or it could have been just the eyebrows...

"Doctor, captain, lieutenant," Spock greeted everyone curtly in return. He was unfazed by his captain's antics which Leonard commended. Jim had gone equally stoic in this guy's presence and Uhura... Was that a genuine smile blossoming on Uhura's face; he didn't want to know.

"What kind of a name is Spock?" he asked before he could stop himself. Jim's eyes widened and a comical panic crossed his face. Leonard wasn't going to try to decipher what it meant.

"He is a foreigner," Jim replied with throwing an arm around Spock's shoulders who glared at him, "A good man, and a bit strict at times but it's for a greater good."

"It's customary in your country to scare the living lights out of a passenger, Commander?"

"That was not my intention, doctor," Spock replied "It is, however, considered rude to disturb an ongoing conversation. I was merely waiting for the right moment to introduce myself."

"Well, you certainly made an entrance, you... uh?" For a change, Leonard managed to keep his tongue between his teeth before he threw a colourful array of names at the Commander. He took a moment to clear his thoughts in order to avoid any unwanted dispute between them. He didn't particularly care but it was below him to deliberately be cruel to a man he just met. Or had he? He needed that one question answered first. "Have we met before?"

"Yes," The answered filled the doctor with great hope and happiness. Caught up in his happy little inner dance, he missed the utmost terror written all over both Jim's and Uhura's faces. "It was on the first day of our voyage, doctor. You had taken ill and I had helped you get to your cabin. Do you not recall?"

"No," he answered, his hopes deflating once more. This was becoming a habit "It wasn't you. It was a boy who helped me out. I think."

"That is most unfortunate. It was I who had guided you."

"Your old memories are surfacing but not in the right order, Leonard," Jim cut in, "Perhaps it's all too confusing to think when you are, you know, tipsy."

"For the last time, I am not drunk, Jim."

"Tired?"

"Yeah..."

"Ok, enough with the interrogations, my good man and my lady. Everyone go back to your posts and I'll walk Dr McCoy to his quarters." Leonard wasn't going to argue with that. The idea of reaching a soft bed was enough to remind him of his exhaustion. He began yawning in no time.

"Good night, doctor and take care," Uhura whispered as he planted a kiss on his cheek.

"You too, darlin'," he responded and nodded to Spock. As Spock placed a hand on his neck, he didn't pull back, accepting it as a friendly gesture but before he realised what was going on, he felt a pinch and Leonard's vision blackened.

"What the hell, Spock?" Jim hissed, struggling to hold Leonard up. He failed and both landed on their knees on the cold floor.

"I fear, not all is well in the doctor's mind, Captain," Spock explained and got on his knees as well.

"You think?" Jim shot back. He was seriously questioning his friend and officer's motives. Instead of bad-mouthing him, he returned his attention to Bones. He pulled him close, letting his head fall onto his shoulder and sneaking an arm around his waist.

"Beyond what we anticipated, Doctor McCoy's brainwaves are erratic and uncoordinated. Had the incident occurred a few weeks or months ago, I would have considered this normal but after a year of no change and then having an abnormal increase in memory surge, it very may have an adverse effect in the long term. If it can be saved at all."

"Are you suggesting that Leonard's remembering too quickly and that could fry his brain?" Jim asked to clarify. Spock nodded solemnly.

"It is a possible outcome."

"Is there anything we can do to slow it down?" Uhura chipped in, grabbing hold of one of Leonard's hands.

"Keeping me away was the solution but it clearly failed. If anything, his flashbacks are happening more violently now. He remembered so much more in the last two days than what he did in one year!"

"The fact that we are on a ship probably assists in that. There may be nothing for us to do, except..." Spock trailed and dread filled Jim. He was going to suggest something that he and Bones would definitely hate. Nevertheless, he motioned for Spock to continue.

"I will brain meld with the doctor and in order to slow down the acceleration, I'll access parts of memories, blocking them. As he regains himself more in the future, I can manipulate the parts of the memories that they hid away and allow them to surface with no harm done."

"Or without risking overheating," Jim finished and shared a worried look with Uhura. They both equally appeared put off with the idea but neither were in any position to propose a better idea. Jim spared a glance at Bones, sleeping soundly. He buried his nose into the doctor messy hair, smelling of a weird sea-scented shampoo that Jim wasn't acquainted with. It pissed him off but didn't stop him from planting a small kiss on top of Bones' head. "He is going to hate us both when he notices what you did, Spock."

"He will hate me all the same if we leave him be. It seems that is a universal constant."

"That's not true, Spock," Uhura said, gently caressing the Vulcan's cheek, "And, Leonard isn't capable of hating you, Jim. I know, he tried."

"I hope you two are right, or the Enterprise will be left with minus a CMO." Jim sighed and although he tried to hide his own fears through professionalism, both Uhura and Spock understood the deeper meaning behind his words; a captain without a doctor; Jim without Bones. Neither commented but they nodded in sync.

Without further ado, he pushed Bones towards a wall with Uhura's help, lifted up his chin and supported his head with holding his neck. His thumb caressed the soft spot beneath Bones' ear, hoping to relay some sort of support. Spock replaced Uhura's place on his other side and reached out placed his fingers accordingly. Jim averted his eyes and focused on the steady rise and fall of the strong chest, how it seized a little every now and then. He traced Leonard's lean fingers with his own and grasped them when the doctor let out a particularly ragged gasp. Spock retreated after that and Jim cradled the dazed but awakening Leonard close to his chest.

"He will need a few moments to regain his senses, Jim. I suggest we get him up and take him back to his cabin in the meantime."

"Which memories did you misplace?" Jim asked slowly.

"Tonights', mainly. They were the ones muddling his thoughts the most. He will still recall meeting me but not where or how we met."

"Alright, good enough." Jim let out a breath he had been holding in, "In the meantime, make sure we got the coordinates right from the colonists. I doubt we'll have extra time if we end up lost in the ocean."

"Only two set of coordinates remain, Jim. We have got to get Leonard back before we reach the last position in a few days." Uhura whispered, "Do you think we'll have enough time?"

"Yes, as long as we have the time we need, we'll do fine. But, to make sure that we are on the same page with the colonists, sent Chekov and Sulu back to the Enterprise when you can and have them monitor our progress."

"We will be reaching the first set of agreed coordinates at four hundred hours sharp, we can transport them out then."

"Also, find Scotty. He has been blowing us off for two days now."

"Any reason as to why, Captain?" Spock asked but Uhura jabbed him in the ribs. It was all he needed to realise the answer by himself "He is feeling guilty over what had happened to the doctor."

"Thanks for stating the obvious, Mr Spock. Uhura, can you?"

"I am on it, Captain" she nodded, order received and understood.

"Good, you two better disappear, then. I'll take care of him"

"You don't need us, Jim?" Uhura asked and helped him get Leonard on his feet. The doctor's body was awake but his mind was in another land entirely.

"I got this. It's better this way, right? He would never have believed that Spock's a foreigner anyway."

"No, he wouldn't have," Uhura smiled as Jim threw Bones' arm around his shoulders. His hand on the doctor's waist slipped beneath the waistcoat and he stroked the delicate skin over the shirt. He wished Leonard wouldn't wear so many layers but damned Victorian values had decided otherwise to solely piss off Jim Kirk.

Spock and Uhura stuck around until they reached Bones' corridor, expertly deflecting any and all curious passengers who question their intentions, as well as Dr McCoy state of wooziness. After convincing everyone that he was suffering from a horrendous seasickness, they were finally left alone long enough for Jim to drag Leonard through the last part of the hall. It was at that time that Leonard came to himself. Uhura and Spock turned around so quickly and without raising a doubt that even Jim didn't notice the moment of their departure.

"What? Whaz happen'?" McCoy slurred and Jim held him tighter, amusedly watching him as Leonard grasped their situation, how close they were walking side by side. They were both hot, especially Jim was burning like a furnace with the exertion of carrying Leonard around. Subconsciously, Leonard nuzzled in closer, burrowing into the welcoming warmth.

"You ass!" he said suddenly and Jim visibly jumped out of his skin, "Where have you disappeared to all day? I thought you were joining us for dinner, or breakfast or something?"

"Sorry. Captainly stuff needed my attention. It's not easy handling this old girl."

"Oh God, we're not going to sink, are we?"

"What, no!" Jim exclaimed "You know better than this, McCoy, I won't let my ship get hurt. Not if I can help it."

"Sure, I'll believe in you." Leonard smiled. His eyes were unfocused but he seemed to have gathered his wits, "By the way, you can call me Len or Leo instead of McCoy, whichever you prefer. We are past the whole surnames exclusive state since yesterday."

"Yeah, yes. I totally agree, Len. Also, you never asked but I am Captain James T. Kirk."

"That name has a nice tune to it," Leonard mused "I'll try not to wear it out."

"Knock yourself out, man!"

"By the way, why the hell are you half dragging me to my room?" Leonard asked and knowing there was no other answer than the lie Uhura suggested, Jim began to elaborate on a story about Leonard's seasickness and his unlikely adventures with bourbon.


	8. Chapter 8

"So there is this kid, barely out of his diapers, right, he is standing before a cadaver for the first time and what does he do? Holds the scalpel backwards, cutting his own palm open instead of the dead guy's chest! Then, he is wailing like some dying animal and the sound is both haunting and hilarious." McCoy finished his tale, earning a pat on the back from Jim.

"I think you managed to terrify and cause everyone on the table to lose their breakfast, Len," Jim commented lightly as he sipped his coffee. It was the morning of their fourth day. They were seated at a table overlooking the ocean, enjoying each others company with coffees in hand. The other passengers on the same table nodded in agreement but it only made Leonard smile brighter. It was a sight that caused both Jim's chest to swell and his throat to tighten. "It's a nice change to see you happy in the morning."

"It's a nice change to feel happy, Jim," Leonard responded and Jim's heart broke into little pieces, taking away what little joy he felt. "My mind feels free today. It's been eradicated of overflowing thoughts and painful aches. I must have gotten a perfect night's sleep."

"Yeah, you must have." Jim was a total bastard. He was sure of it now. When he gazed at Bones and saw a man whose smile wasn't bitter, he didn't recognise it. The stranger who held his body straight without the burdens of the world placed on his shoulders, without the pain of the past dragging him down. He stared at him and saw a different man staring back through hazel eyes.

He hated it but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't remind him of them, of Enterprise. Not yet. All that was left to do was to accompany the man and keep an eye on him. He still had his captainly duties so even those few precious moments were cut short, and shared with the rest of crew who were similarly both distraught and glad to see the doctor content, even happy. Jim tried not to say that word, in case he jinxed it but that's what Bones was at that moment, happy. No one could deny it.

As Leonard was lost in telling yet another story about his lectures in Liverpool, Jim began formulating a faster but safer method of helping Bones out. They were quickly running out of time. The voyage was only going to last ten days. Reach the end and they were done for. Enterprise would have to leave without her senior officers.

God, damn this place!

It wasn't meant to be real. Not fully. Not at first. But here they were, in a world solely created for the weak mind where the dangers could prove to be lethal. Their existence as well as their conscious mind were very much real and just as easily affected by their surroundings. But it was only ever meant to be a simulation and never meant to be anything more.

Jim recalled the moment when his first officer, accompanied by Uhura and colonist scientists, had informed him of what had befallen on Bones. He recalled in great detail the way Spock's furrowed brows twitched and how Uhura's mostly distinguished posture was on the verge of breaking down as they assessed the situation. Well, it was mostly Spock who had done the talking while Jim, knuckles white from tightly holding onto his communicator, had to summon all his inner will in order to maintain control over his impulses.

It was his fault. He hadn't heeded to Bones' pleadings and fended off his worry with a knowing smirk and encouraging few words. He didn't even remember what he had said to him; something generic, like it was any other mission and not potentially Leonard McCoy's last one. He was disgusted with himself for it but regardless of the intensity of his self-hatred for his mistake, it was nothing compared to the regret he felt.

He is gone, Jim. Uhura had whispered with a trembling voice, The transportation was not completed in time. His body never made it down to the ground.

The heavy disturbance in the area, combined with the unexpected malfunction on the ship interfered with Dr McCoy's teleportation. He would not have felt it. Spock had added, which had not helped calm Jim down. The colonists blamed the Enterprise for the tragic and unforeseen event. The mystery of why or how the ship broke down remained unsolved even as Scotty stood his ground for as long as he could and defended his best girl.

Inspections on both the ship and on the ground were done, results were compiled and conclusions were drawn all the while Jim left the helm to Spock and deemed himself emotionally compromised. The words leaving a taste of ash in his mouth as he half-heartedly muttered them.

It wasn't until the end of the week that the storm had calmed and all hope was lost that Spock turned up in his cabin with something resembling of good news. They, Spock and the rest of the crew might have found a way to bring Dr McCoy back. With a heavy heart too fragile to hold on to false hope, Jim had reluctantly accepted to hear their suggestions. It turned out, it was a good decision. He wasn't entirely sure who it was, maybe Scotty or Chekov, he was far too much lost at the bottom of a bottle by then, but someone had discovered that the sketchy colonists who had been far too quick to point their fingers and blame the Enterprise, were actively working on their new technology. A technology which involved gathering the remains and the body signature of the last person who had used the transportation pod, and then reassembling the person back into one piece.

Jim had been furious when this information had reached him and he had stormed out of his room, uncaring of his grim looks, complete with the unwashed uniform set he was wearing and an unflattering beard which had overgrown its welcome. When he had faced the scientists and simply threatened them with cutting off their supply import from the federation, they had been kind enough to confess both messing with the Enterprise's inner working and working with their new guinea pig. Jim nearly shot their team leader in the head had it not been for Uhura's and Spock's combined efforts.

It had been Scotty who had suggested letting them do just that; attempt to bring McCoy back from almost nothingness. They had nothing to lose if they failed and a great deal to gain if they succeeded so Jim had chosen to bring him back with the colony's technology. The idea to keep McCoy's mind active and preserve its sanity was to be done with having McCoy in a simulation while his body was put together and his mind recovered from the heavy trauma he sustained. He had believed the remaining good people of the colony when they argued that they had the means to put his friend back together. Almost from scratch, with using whatever cells and DNA were left in the transportation device. They were going to put him together like the way he was before but also, he would be brand new. Like he never died at all.

It was never that easy though, and as such, they were on a time limit. Four days down; six days left until the reanimation device would reach maximum capacity and shut off. They had to get out before then or sane or not, McCoy and everyone hooked up to the simulation would be trapped there for the rest of their lives.

He had wanted to help. He hadn't known the procedure was only theoretical, that it hadn't been properly tested yet. He hadn't known that Bones would be trapped in it. Unable to remember, unable to return back home. It all had gone to shit so fast, that they didn't see it coming at all. Now, it was up to them to save their friend and it wasn't going well enough.

He wished for a whisky instead of a coffee. He wished it all was a horrible nightmare and he woke up from it kicking and screaming. So that, he would have an excuse to bother Bones in his own quarters and curl around him like he did in the academy while hiding his emotions behind a blank smiley mask. Bones would scoff at him, call him names but more importantly he would see through the facade and lift his duvet for Jim to join. Then they would wake up and resume their day as if it were any other day.

A simple touch on his wrist brought all of it back. It took everything in Jim to surpass a sob. Jim could still notice the shift in Leonard's moods quicker than everyone else. It was in small ways that McCoy's fear overshadowed his stubbornness, like how he would gaze at the stars for a moment too long or how he would worry the glass clasped tightly in his palm. Or as in this case, with his grip on Jim's wrist growing stronger with each second that passes in silence.

"Is something the matter?"

"No, nothing," he answered, his throat dry and tongue stilled with all the heavy words that he couldn't voice. If only they had managed to locate McCoy before the colonials began repairing a mind they did not understand. The scientists had spent a year in the simulation, one week in the real world, fixing his characteristical and professional aspects, figured they had enough time. They didn't. The storm, like it had fucked up Bones' transportation, also messed up the reanimation device, overloading it.

If something could go wrong, it will go wrong as long as you are in the Enterprise, Jim mused darkly and downed his coffee. The hot beverage burned its way down its throat. The pain rooted him, dragging his delusional ass back to reality. They didn't have time to allow Leonard to recall his name without a forceful trigger, they weren't going to be able to put his mind back in order in time. Unlike, his reassuring words to Uhura, Jim was scared and he hoped, that at least they would be able to put his molecules back together and heal him physically. Memories... Well as long as Bones was alive and healthy, they could always generate new ones.

"Cut the crap, Jim. This isn't the face of someone who has no problems," Leonard tried again. It was effective in getting him to face Len.

"Sorry," Jim replied and reached out to hold Bones' hand, covering it with his own. An affectionate squeeze that was meant to soothe them both but it wasn't what happened. Leonard pulled his hand away as if he had been burned, stunning Jim. "Ah, sorry, again. I was thinking of better times, old friends and family, you know. For a second, I mistook you for someone else."

"It's alright," Leonard answered "I overreacted. It's not usual for people to get touchy feely with each other around here."

"Yes, I noticed. It's a damn shame if you ask me." If he sounded wistful, it was worth it after seeing Bones' amazed expression. They were slowly getting on the same page. Though Jim wouldn't hold his breath, not after Spock's mind meld.

"So," Leonard cleared his throat, shaking off the awkwardness he felt and changed the subject smoothly "Where have you been of late? You were gone for solid two days. Did you get a complaint or something?"

"No, nothing like that. I visited the lower decks, met the good people downstairs."

"You mean the passengers with the third class passes?" Leonard asked. Jim was glad there was no judgement or condemnation in his tone. Healing the mind was one thing, curing classism was another.

"Yeah, and let me tell you. They know how to party. Cheap booze, loud music, laughter all around. Most of them are really nice folks too. Some gave me the stink eye for joining them but it wasn't ill intended, not for long." The lie wasn't that off, he had joined their dinner the night before. His priority had been to stick around Len but Spock and Uhura were strictly against hanging around the doctor too much in case it bore disastrous results such as overworking Leonard's mind.

"You are a different breed of a captain, Jim but I ain't complaining" Leonard smirked and the flash of white teeth overturned Jim's stomach, "What do you got planned for tonight, after your shift; going to visit downstairs or upstairs?"

"Choosing between a wild party and you is a most difficult task, Len," he said pulling it together. He switched on his charm, falling into his old habits "Unless you desire my presence by your side of course."

Leonard snorted loudly but he wasn't ashamed of a bit of flirting when they were out of earshot. Jim on the other hand, was never going to understand nor learn the ways of the old when touching in public was as grave as a sin and god forbid if you even think about flirting, neither with a man or a woman. Everything was about gender roles and protecting their masculinity or femininity, and to do so separately. If you as much as spoke about love, you got your ass handed to you. There was no way he could comprehend a lifestyle which directly forbade open-hearted love, for life; As in during all their lives, throughout the whole eighty or ninety years. Why did the colonists ever choose this time period? It was a nightmare and an impossible rule to follow. Of course, he was going to disregard it full-heartedly.

There was no one left on the table to judge them either so he turned up his charm even more, winking at Leonard as the man let an exasperated sigh with an amused smile. "Or you can accompany me downstairs?"

"Hell no!" Lenord shot back, "I just gotten rid of my headache. I am not risking it coming back. Moreover, I am not willing to be surrounded not only by water but also be trapped within the water in this tin can."

"You got to face your fears sometimes, Len."

"Not like this, mister. I am not suicidal!"

"Alright, I won't push you. Just so you know, they got a wicked whisky collection down there. Between you and me, I think it's the illegal sort." Jim leaned in, hoping to hypnotise him with his sweet smile and change his mind. He had forgotten, this was Bones. He was practically immune to Jim's leer. Plus, he didn't yield easily when it came to phobias. Not now, not ever.

"Then, you can be a darlin' and grab us a bottle of the wicked assortion, Captain. I'll be sitting on the usual bench."

"Oh, you sly old man," Jim laughed but nodded. It was a challenge and he was ready to take it on. This was the best opportunity to get back to what they had before, even for a little while. Between his tormented side that begged him to stay by Bones' side and his impatient side which was quickly getting angry over his incompetence, this was the better path he could follow. He was going to seduce Len into remembering him while staying within their respective boundaries of masculinity.

"This is a terrible idea, Jim," Uhura spoke silently "Perhaps, we should let Spock piece his mind together."

"He can't do that if there is nothing to piece together. Bones needs to remember more, first. Then I'll trust someone else with his brain!" Jim countered and leaned against the metal door of the Bridge.

"Spock might understand the functionality of the brain more than you Jim. All I am saying is, let a professional handle this."

"Because the colonials did a bang up job about it, right? Look, I trust Spock but this is so not his area. The emotions which Bones must be having are going to go over his head. That's why I sent Chapel to keep an eye out for any erratic behaviour and do other medical observations in my stead."

"Ok, but how is whisky the problem solver here? Because whatever solution you think you have, I am not seeing it." Uhura crossed her arms and Jim was vaguely reminded of Spock at having to hear counterargument at his every suggestion.

"I believe the Captain is onto something, Lieutenant." It was Spock who spoke the words but neither Uhura nor Jim believed the words coming out of his mouth.

"But?" Jim began, fully expecting a genius level argument to break out but Spock surprised him.

"I had not intended to follow with a but, Captain. As much as I am averse to the idea of consuming alcohol this frequently, intoxicating Dr McCoy with a certain amount will assist in lowering his mental barriers. Therefore, making it easier for me to delve into his mind, attain repressed memories and rearrange them."

"God, you make it sound so bad," Jim buried his face in his hands and stifled a groan, "I can't believe I am about to get my best friend drunk so that you can..."

"Fix his mind from the inside," Uhura completed his sentence thankfully, "The colonists can do only so much in the time left, Jim. We have to intervene and set things right or accept the fact that Leonard, as we know him will be gone."

"Not to mention that he will no longer be qualified to act as a Starfleet Officer or even as a doctor," Spock added in, "There is still the matter of protecting his mind, Captain. You must use caution to avoid extreme confusion. Otherwise, there may not be anything left to salvage."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Spock." Jim darted his eyes between the couple while passing his fingers through his unkempt beard and came to the conclusion that there was no better time to take things to the next level. "Alright, let's go steal ourselves some booze then!"


	9. Chapter 9

Leonard fidgeted where he sat on the bench, overlooking the calm sea. Not one soul was around to enjoy the moment of serenity and only the sounds of the waves crashing at the side of the ship were there to accompany him. That and the stars up above. Shining brighter than he has ever seen them, he felt like the stars were guiding them back home. They were leading them away from the deep, dark ocean and pull them back to the safety of the land. He felt silly thinking that, the stars weren't going anywhere. They weren't moving at a speed Len could observe if they were moving at all.

He wasn't scared gazing at the moonless sky or leaning against the railing, nothing but a bunch of metal bars keeping him from meeting a cold, untimely end in the bottomless, salty waters. That should have been his first clue. Something was way off with him. Yet, it didn't register at first and he resumed his position by the railings, thinking of the absence of his bizarre dreams and how little that made him happy. He was calm like the ocean but also, restless like the waves.

He rubbed his eyes, feeling the aftereffects of his all day long escapades with the fine wine he acquired from a mysterious gentleman. He had seen the way Madam Chapel glued his eyes on him, not in an 'I want to do you' way but rather 'You are going to drown in that bottle and I won't lift a finger to help you' way. There was a distinctive difference between the bedroom eyes and disappointment after all and McCoy had mastered in telling them apart despite his obvious disadvantage. He didn't blame the woman for that, he had had a good morning which quickly turned sour after Jim left. Some random nobleman picking a fight with him over a misunderstanding involving a cigar. Everyone being on edge due to the prolonged times they had to spend in close quarters was also grinding on people's nerves, making them flare quicker than usual. McCoy would sympathise with them. Except, he didn't. Despite all the expected burst of anger, the world still seemed pleasant in his eyes and he remained composed. Now, that was scary.

The opening sound of a door echoed in the night, taking his mind off his musings and he eagerly turned around. "Please, tell me that's what I think it is!" Lenord rejoiced at the sight of Jim appearing in the doorway to the outer deck with a dusty bottle and two crystal glasses.

"Yes, it is a Scottish 1870, Dewar's single malt. You can thank me all night long" Jim replied arrogantly. He had ditched his usual carefully selected attire and had opted to wear a plain shirt with a high collar and suspenders fastened to a pair of loose trousers tucked into short boots.

"You wonderful bastard. What did you trade for this, your soul?"

"Something like that," Jim beamed, passing him both of the glasses so that he could open the bottle. The heavy scent of cigars reached his nostrils as the young man struggled with the lid. Len sat back and enjoyed the scene where he could see the beads of sweat gathered on Jim's chest and neck, glistening in the dim lights of the deck. A familiar urge rose up in him, begging him to touch the scarce blond hair visible within the open collar, to caress the neck and nibble at the base of his chin where his beard began. To feel the raw skin under his fingertips.

Leonard jerked awake from his self-inflicted delusions at the sound of Jim's triumph over the lid. He put the glasses down, stripped off his long coat and draped it over Jim's shaking shoulders. He got in closer than intended and his voice sounded thicker than usual but neither was complaining "Here, you are going to catch your death if the wind picks up"

"Thanks," Jim muttered, clinging closer to the coat and flashing him a heartfelt smile. He took a careful step back and gestured at the glasses so that he could fill them up with healthy amounts of the light brown liquid. "A challenge has been won. That's what matters at the end of the day" he cheered and clung his glass with Leonard's, earning a similar smirk in return.

"Pity, you didn't ask for anything in return. It is a drink to die for." Len sipped his glass and Jim almost choked on his. He allowed him a moment to get his breathing back to normal while savouring the smooth, heavenly scotch. "I hope it is the real deal. I heard some nasty stories about the illegal stuff they had banned"

"Hey, it doesn't taste like kerosene, so it's ought to be legit," was Jim's simple reply. Leonard nodded as he looked Jim over and his eyes got stuck on a small glint on his finger. He considered not being nosy but curiosity won at the end.

"So, what is up with the ring? Is there a story behind it or it's just a fashion accessory?"

Jim choked a little on his drink this time. He became pink to the ears which Len found to be rather fitting colour on him. "It belongs to an old friend. I am keeping it safe for now."

"You are a real goody two shoes, aren't you?" He said without glancing away. When his lingering gaze took too long to rose up to Jim's eyes, the blond man licked his lips, almost as if he was teasing and daring him to take a final risk. The bait, the invitation was there but there wasn't enough courage nor alcohol in him to help him push towards that risk. He swallowed hard while worrying the mouth of the glass and tried to focus on the reality before him. It was a difficult feat with Jim standing close enough that he could practically feel his breath on his neck.

"There was a-" Leonard started, trying to remember the last memory like a dream he had had two nights ago. Jim hummed, urging him to continue and Leonard described the vivid image of a grey-walled room which housed a single bed, strange machinery that he didn't recognise and blue, golden striped overshirts in a wardrobe. He then detailed a large saloon with a wide window looking out to the dark space as if they were swimming amongst the stars. In this room, there were two people sitting side by side and sipping colourful beverages. A blur of gold was what he could see in the corner of his eyes yet the sense pride he felt for the other man was unmistakenly strong. They were born to be up there because everywhere else felt too wrong to be.

Len finished sharing his dream whereas Jim stood with his mouth hanging open, unable to respond to him. Having rendered Jim Kirk speechless, the doctor decided that he had earned the refill with the fine scotch and poured some into both their glasses.

Everyone else was too wrong to be with. Len didn't add it to the end but kept the thought close to his heart, hiding it from Jim. He had a vague guess that Jim already gathered it as well but he didn't say anything for a while. Honestly, he had been expecting the kind of glee that appeared in Jim's eyes each and every time he had mentioned another bizarre dream to him. He was aware that those dreams were too odd to have anything to do with his real memories so it was completely pointless to be happy about seeing them but Jim had always shown to have a different perspective. Yet, this time around, when he glimpsed at the stunning blue eyes, only sadness was evident.

"Jim," he whispered softly and put a hand on his shoulder. The captain blinked away tears that were barely visible and ran his fingers through his hair, his hand falling down on Len's wrist and gently holding onto him.

"It sounded like a stunning dream. To be amongst the stars, to be with your better half... or the closest thing you can get in its stead" There was a tremor in his voice that Len didn't particularly like and to make Jim feel better he caressed the junction between the captain's neck and shoulder. His fingers grazed the short hair at the back of his head, while his thumb rubbed small circles beneath his ear. It worked like a charm. Jim's tense shoulders relaxed, as he directed them towards the bench.

They slumped down together. There was an intense moment which passed without either of them doing anything but gaze into each other's eyes, looking but failing to find something that was once crucial. Jim gave up first, his head rolling back towards the sky. His drink was forgotten in his palm but McCoy's wasn't. In the silence that followed, while Jim managed to finish his first drink, Len downed three more glasses. Before he knew it, with the assistance of the booze, his fatigue caught up with him. The lullabies of the waves and the distant music from the saloon put him to sleep on the hard cold bench and he dozed off dreaming of a quieter ship and a warmer bed.

,,,,

It was Jim who unwrapped Leonard from the impossible fetal position he had curled into. It took great effort to unbind the doctor into a less awkward position by his side after rescuing the strongly held glass. He simply continued to nurse his second glass, his mind heavy with all that was to come. Jim discovered why McCoy liked it so much up on that deck, as his friend kept on sleeping by his side. The stars were bare and captivating in their beauty. With the lack of the city lights, it was almost as if they were back up in space in their ship. Just two guys bickering in the bar at their home.

His arm started to go numb under Bones' full weight but he made no attempt to remove it. What he did was to snuggle in closer to Bones.

That's when Leonard's eyes fluttered open. As he came to it, he realised that his whole torso was leaning against a bulky, warm body, his head resting uncomfortably on a bony shoulder. His arms were draped all over that same body, as well. His consciousness supplied him with nothing as to his whereabouts or his company. He didn't complain, because the warmth, the scents and the body felt right like he was meant to hold onto this person and never let go. His treacherous brain, on the other hand, was feeding him clues about the sound of the sea and a very specific handsome blond. The images took a moment to fit into the blanks but then he recalled the cool breeze from the ocean, the smoked taste of aged whisky and the biggest shining star of the night that was named Jim Kirk.

He spent an embarrassing second to come to terms with the fact that he had wrapped the blond man in an embrace which an octopus would envy. He, a grown ass man was basically cuddling the captain of the ship, another grown ass man, in the middle of the observation deck.

Needless to say, Leonard was in no condition to form any coherent sentences, let alone give a proper apology to Jim before jumping away from the man and cleaning the pooled drool on his shoulder.

"Oh God! Sorry," Len stuttered, a blush creeping its way up to his neck. His dignity, as well as his almost non-existing reputation, was damaged beyond repair.

"Don't fret, Bones," Jim replied drowsily "You fell asleep with a gorgeous human pillow. It happens"

"What did you call me?" The sudden question caught Jim off guard. He swirled his drink and focused on the whisky, trying to act nonchalant.

"I said, don't fret, McCoy" he backtracked, cursing himself and praying that Leonard would drop the subject in the meantime. He didn't.

"No! You said; Bones. Why?"

"You are clearly still asleep, old man." Jim tried to salvage what's left of his lie, then decided that it wasn't going to cut it. Not with the arched eyebrow directed at him, clearly calling him out on his bullshit. He debated with himself overcoming clean with him; eventually, he would have to. So why not start right away? "It's a stupid nickname I thought you might like. It doesn't matter." Maybe, the partial truth was better.

"It matters," Leonard insisted "Because I heard that name in my dreams. Someone called out to me, screamed at me with that name. The sound of those two syllables echoes every time they are muttered around me. It must mean something!"

Jim shook his head, unsure of how to respond and Len let out an infuriated sigh, dropping down to the bench. His shaky hand grasped the rim of the glass, shoving it towards Jim for a refill who obliged reluctantly. A tense silence, much different from the one before stretched on until Leonard finished his drink. When he spoke next, his voice was strained and thick "You are hiding something, kid. I assure you I will find out what it is"

I have no doubt about it, Bones Jim wanted to reply but before he could open his mouth, the glass in Leonard's hand slipped and hit the metal floor, shattering with a high pitched sound. Leonard's heavy body followed after the glass. As he was about to dip forward and hit the ground, Jim surged forward and caught him with both hands. A cold fear covered Jim's heart at the sight of Bones' motionless body, but unfortunately, that would be only a temporary problem as his body began seizing and shaking uncontrollably.

,,,,

He dreamed of an endless, blue ocean, at first. He was standing on the edge of a mirror, looking down at the water and at his sad reflections. There was blue on him as well, it allowed him to disappear within the ocean surface, turning invisible. As if he were becoming one with it. He never once considered himself similar to the ocean, yet the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He always held onto his anger like a sudden storm appearing amidst the ocean, unleashing a force to be reckoned with. During the downtime, his calmness offered a sanctuary from the dangers of the deep seas.

The ocean wasn't the only captivating things in his line of sight; The sun was out but he knew the stars were out there, even if he couldn't see them. A voice called out from the depths of the ocean and drew his attention back downwards. A body floated up to the surface, eyes closed, body dry as if it was frozen and couldn't quite meltdown yet in the water. The dirty blond hair was familiar to him, but the unmoving chest and the lack of energy were not. He recognised him anyway; Jim.

If Leonard was the ocean, then Jim was a star, a constellation even. A collection of stars that never burnt out, always providing light on the darkest road. Something tangible and trustworthy. Warm and strong. He was real and he was alive. Wasn't he? Or maybe he was a comet who flared brightly for a few precious moment only to crash and burn out just as quickly. Abandoned, left to die alone...

Why? he whispered to himself. Why had he just worried himself over that? Why even think about it all? He didn't get answers right away and the body kept on floating, kept on taunting him to jump into the ocean and follow in the footsteps of the dead.

The second dream was less merciful.

He saw body bags, explosions, an immense amount of pain as his medical team suffered through an attack. People, his friends being subjected to the horrors of war, in agony as the ship around them broke and the walls crumbled. They were dying left and right, and there was nothing he could do. He felt the helplessness, oh so similar to when he woke up on the shore of Crosby. He was unable to help, to revive his fallen crewmembers, his friends. He had failed them. But most of all, he felt the burning shame of not being able to save his captain, his best friend. The man he would die for. As he laid in the bag, unmoving, surrounded by nothing but death, all Leonard could do was to stare blankly, blame himself and think; why wasn't I with him at the end?

He gained consciousness but the cost was high. His eyes were blurry and his vision was fuzzy. He had no means to tell heads from tails. He was a sobbing mess, with tears in his eyes clutching a set of railings as if the ship was going to give under him and fall from the sky. Everything shook violently, Leonard heaving along with it. He wished for it to stop. He begged for unconsciousness. A set of skilful fingers were pressed against his neck and his wish was granted with no further delay.

,,,,

"How are you feeling, Len?" asked a gentle voice and Leonard stirred in his blissfully comfortable bed. His vision was blurry when he cracked open an eye but it cleared as Jim's pressed lips and creased brows came into view. "Deja vu, much?"

"You are dead," Leonard deadpanned and Jim's tired face morphed into a grim one. His sorrowful eyes flickered across Leonard's body and the wall behind him until he decided to focus on him one more time. This time with more conviction in his gaze.

"I am right here, Leonard. And, so are you," he whispered. The desperation and agony were evident in his voice, but why? Leonard wanted answers, not more questions...

"What happened?"

"I should ask you the same," was Jim's reply and he actually sounded exhausted. Leonard noticed how his emotions were going haywire through his near-hysteric hand gestures. Not only that but Jim was showing signs of anxiety, too; talking too fast, breathing heavily. Len wanted to seize him by the arm and listen to the beating of his frantic heart, a sign that he was alive and well. He didn't get the chance because Jim was adamant in talking himself to asphyxiation. "You had a few glasses and dozed off. Which was fine, you know. It happens after being tired so long but then, the seizure began. Spock showed up but he wasn't much help either. You were out cold, sweating and had a high temperature. We couldn't wake you up. I feared the worst. Called in Chapel who was able to help. We got you back to your cabin and thankfully your fever broke!"

He slouched and a tired, dead-eyed gaze took the place of the overly vivid one as if he had been up all night. His shirt was wrinkled, half tucked into his trousers. One side of his suspenders was down and the other was barely hanging on. Even his shoes were off. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Jim had spent the whole night in his cabin, nursing Len back to health, fretting over what could happen to him.

"Sorry," Leonard replied. He believed that Jim was telling the truth. He did feel like shit and the pain in his head was definitely evidence of hangover. The captain was pleased with his answer as he picked himself up from the ground where he had kneeled by Leonard's bed. He didn't even realise what he was doing but in a blink of an eye, Leonard reached out for Jim, grabbing his wrist. "What I am seeing, is it real?"

If misery had a face and a name, it would be Jim Kirk. With the kind of expression he was wearing, Leonard was sure that his dream was real but Jim was adamant in proving him wrong.

"That's not a question I can answer. Only you can..."

"Yeah, how about you cut the crap tell me what the hell you know about my past, Captain!"

"I don't! I don't know anything" Jim stuttered.

"Clearly, you don't," Leonard responded sarcastically, "Damn it, man! I am not stupid. I can tell when someone's bullshitting me and that's what you have been doing. That much is obvious even to a five-year-old!"

"Look," Jim began. Stopped halfway through, breathed in deeply and moved to increase the flame of the light lamp. He seemed even less healthy with all the shadows flickering on his pale face, "You are a doctor!"

"No shit, Sherlock!" Leonard growled, crossing his arms.

"Therefore," Jim tried again, acting as if Len hadn't interrupted him, "You should know how that head injuries and their respective trauma on the brain are extremely delicate."

"Is that what I have? Heavy head trauma, from the ship incident?"

"Wouldn't you say so?" Jim gestured at him, hoping that Leonard agreed with him on this matter, "You were on a ship, you had an accident that ended with you in the water, scrambled your brain and you woke up on the shore. It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Don't give me that crap, Kirk!" McCoy hollered, jumping out of the bed. Jim flinched at his response and Leonard decided to tone down his attitude. There was no point in scaring his only friend. He reached out and cupped Jim's chin, his eyes begging for the truth.

"I... I am not," was the meek response. So unlike the Jim Kirk from his dreams, so unlike the man, he chose to follow. Something flickered behind the blue eyes as if he gave up playing to pretend and he straightened his back, "You've got to get to the answer yourself, Bones. It means nothing if I hand over them."

Leonard let out a tired sigh. He lowered his head as his fatigue caught up with him but instead of lying back down, he leaned slightly forward. There was something very important that was missing in his life. Something that made him feel complete, alive after being emotionally drained after a year of chasing lost memories. Someone that helped him remember his true self and connect with the rest of people on this ship who in returned reminded him what it meant to enjoy life not just waste his life trying to be the person he used to be. After that dream, he was almost sure that link to his forgotten humanity was Jim.

"Come on, man. I can't do this for you!" Jim pleaded with the same level of tiredness. Although it was a simple sentence, it pushed the wrong buttons in Leonard's mind. He didn't want to hear the impatient rumblings from a man Leonard trusted to keep him from falling apart. Jim was supposed to be his anchor to the reality. The one unflappable source of tolerance and support. Yet, there he was... able to grate on Leonard's every single nerve with his childish tone. Perhaps, the nightmare, the haunting image of dead blue eyes and the silent acceptance of his own demise, had affected him more than he liked to accept.

"I hate this, Jim. Everything around me feels wrong, everything but you and even then you turn out to be lying to me. What am I supposed to believe in? Huh? What in this miserable boat that is actually fucking real?"

"I am real! We both are!" Leonard's heart wasn't moved by that. He was too furious to even figure out what had happened to him.

"So you say! But, all you have done since we met is to lie to me, Jim! Oh sorry, it's an aversion from the truth, not a lie; that's what you claimed, right? Well, guess what? If what I am seeing is true then you are not even alive and this whole thing is nothing but my mind's fabrication!" As he spoke out, it became clearer to him that he meant what he was saying. The shadow of a doubt he harboured in his heart was becoming unavoidable as Jim's own face crumbled at his words. They were both breaking apart and Leonard feared that nothing could help them. Nothing other than the harsh truth but Jim refused to give in. There was nothing left but the eerie silence that claimed so many friendships. "How in seven Hell's am I supposed to trust you?"

"Because you mean the world to me!" Jim's earnest outburst was loud but his anger subsided the moment he noticed how McCoy backed away from him, shock and disbelief were written all over his face. "If I lie, Bones, it's because I have no choice. In the whole universe, you have always been the one person to welcome me in as the person that I am. The one who accepted and loved me unconditionally. Do you really think I could lie to you if it meant it would hurt you?"

Leonard wanted to disagree, to claim that what he was saying wrong, that it was a sin but he was a weak man when it came to Jim. Convincing himself with saying that he had a soft spot for him didn't quite cut it anymore, he knew what this was. The heavy throbbing of his heart and uncontrollable shaking of his legs, the undeniable urge to touch and feel his warmth... They all pointed to the same thing. Whatever he was before, a doctor, a ship surgeon, a friend, he was more to this man. He was his.

Of all the laws of this era, he had never imagined breaking the one unspoken controversy concerning two gentlemen. Then again, he never expected to be receiving adoration with such intensity from this young, vibrant man who could have anyone and everyone he had desired. It was widely known how immoral and sinful this was. Loving another man, allowing your masculinity to be undermined just because of love. But was it all so wrong? Hadn't Jim advised him to think for himself and judge the world on his own merits before criticising it over what everyone else assumed to be right? Maybe, they weren't right after all and his feelings weren't sinful. Maybe, everything he felt was meant to happen because it was right in his own heart.

When Jim leaned forward and their foreheads touched, filling Leonard with a hope he didn't know he could have, he let it happen. Allowed the familiar scents to surround him, welcoming him home. His fingers caressed the sideburns and the beard on Jim's chin, somehow softer to the touch than he imagined them to be. He chuckled softly at that but he had no energy to smile more than he had to.

After blissful moments of simply hanging on, Leonard made the first move to step away. It would be an underestimation to say that he was both extremely overwhelmed and in awe at the intensity of emotions emanating from Jim.

"Why?" he asked, unsure of what exactly he was referring to.

"Why not?" Jim replied, equally unclear on what he meant. Leonard took it as a sign that they were not ready to discuss the peculiarities of their past and future relationship. He broke apart reluctantly and retreated back into his cabin, only to have Jim follow him with every step. When the back of his knees hit the sofa, he stopped but Jim didn't. Soon, there was a gentle hand stroking the side of his neck and unfocused eyes locked on his well-trimmed beard.

"It suits you..." came as a surprise to hear but Leonard accepted the compliment readily.

"Not like you've seen me without a beard. How can you even make a worthy comparison?" he quipped back. A smile grew on Jim's face, his tense features relaxing.

"You sure about that?" he asked while his offending tender fingers made their way to Leonard's lips. Another hand sneaked its way downwards, grasped the small of his back and once more he was in Jim's embrace. The feelings those simple emotions rose up in him were achingly familiar. So much so that he wondered how he could ever forget about it. But by some terrible twist of fate, if he had never been lucky enough to have felt those warm hands on him, then it was just too damn unfortunate.

"Why did I forget about you?" Leonard ended up whispering against Jim's thumb. He had decided to open his heart and hope it didn't get trampled on. It was only one of the questions which were swirling in his mind, creating tornados of confusion but it was the most important one that he needed answering. "Why you? I can point out the names of all the bones in your body, every last one of them but I failed to recall your name. I knew what I liked to eat, how badly I hated the sea but not the shade of the blue in your eyes. I keep remembering names and faces but they never belong to you."

"It's nothing personal, I hope but it hurts a bit to be forgotten. Especially right here," Jim gestured to his heart prompting Leonard to splay his palm over the broad chest. The constant beating of his heart was a soothing music and the steady rhythm was the strongest evidence of their mutual affection. "I miss you, Bones" is mumbled right into his ear with a voice slightly choking on the last word. Bones, an odd but fitting name for him, he realised. Sawbones were what the doctors in the military were called. Is that how he got stuck with it? Were they once part of a military organisation? That explained the explosions and the never ending destruction he kept on dreaming about. It made sense in many aspects but also, none at all because it didn't sit right with him.

Jim, with small steps, directed them towards the bed, his breaths ghosting over Leonard's cheeks. Together they slowly sunk down. Jim didn't follow him fully, rather he assisted Leonard to get under the covers while he kneeled beside the bedframe. He had an expression of serenity which was not common with Jim Kirk as he knew him. It was just as much mesmerising and Leonard savoured every moment of it.

"You goin' to leave?" he asked sleepily.

"No, not until you are asleep."

Leonard snuggled closer to the pillow and leaned towards the captain "Don't you have a ship to take care of? I mean, there must be better things for you to do than to babysit little ol' me."

A sympathetic smile tugged the corner of his lips but his voice was stern "My crew is the best in the entire galaxy. They are more than capable of handling a ship without my input for a few hours or days. I know that because they already did that before. Besides I assure you, I am exactly where I am needed the most."

"You are making my heart flutter, kid," Leonard grumbled. Jim let out a snicker and buried his nose into the mattress. He would always prefer to have Jim laugh at his grumpiness than to make him feel unwelcome in his cabin. Instead of saying his thanks and pulling away, Leonard opted to circle his arm around the broad shoulders. Jim responded immediately with grabbing a hold of his shirt loosely. There was a question in the eyes that bore into his soul but neither dared to ask them.

Jim realised that it was all or nothing, he wouldn't leave Bones scattered mind nor his memories behind. Leonard, on the other hand, was both excited and terrified to find out about everything that he was yet to learn again; with the emphasis being on feeling terrified.

When his body finally threatened to shut down, Leonard let his arm go with an exasperated sigh and tugged at Jim's ear to let him onto the mattress properly. The sweetly smiling man drowsily got up, leaving Leonard all alone for two whole minutes when he blew out the oil lamp, removed his suspenders and came back. It was a tight fit on the single bed with two grown men but they made it work; bodies closely fitted together and lazy smiles on both their faces. This time, their closeness brought out a happy little memory in Leonard's mind, reminiscing about old times he couldn't fully recall but was certain that it involved Jim, exclusively; The slow humming of the ship engines, a peaceful room with just the two of them, a strong grip around his belly. The same breath exhaled on his naked shoulder.

A shiver passed down his spine. "Why is this happening to me? To us?" he asked dejectedly. Honestly, at this point, he didn't expect a coherent answer from anyone.

"Because space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence. And we still chose it over everything else." The familiarity of that sentence was like bathing under a warm sun.

"That makes no sense, Jim. But it doesn't sound wrong either," Leonard answered, wrapping his arms around Jim's middle. He buried his face between the pillow and Jim's neck while allowing Jim to cling to his shoulders, dragging them closer.

"Rest, Bones. Things aren't going to get easier from now on," Jim ordered and Leonard snorted at that.

"When did they ever, darlin'?" he blurted out before following on that order and slipping into a dreamless sleep with the ghosts of lips on his forehead.


	10. Chapter 10

The previous night was kept as a blurry collection of anger, love and serenity in Leonard's tired mind. It turned out to be mostly good in retrospect but that didn't mean the painful parts were less agonising to recall. He recalled hating Jim for a solid few minutes before regaining his senses. He could also still feel the fluttering in his chest when his dear companion had showered him with more than gentle words and coaxed him into a deep sleep. Confusion would be the thing to remember when he looked back on that night. Come next morning, on the other hand, Leonard would fare better and wake up to a soothing tune.

Leonard opened his eyes to greet a sleep deprived sight of Jim Kirk petting his messy, brown locks as his head laid by his thigh. He could feel the cool touch of a ring as it scraped across his neck a few times. It wasn't a bad position to wake up to, Leonard thought. It was all the better since his headache didn't show any interest in returning back. The soft caressing of Jim's fingers soothed the tides of frantic confusion that threatened to engulf him as the tender humming of an old song vibrated through him, vitalizing his stagnant brain. But as with all good things, this too had to come to an end.

He stretched and yawned loudly like a giant cat, his hands touching Jim on the side and crackling of his joints audible to anyone in the vicinity of five meters, even across the thin cabin walls. He hoped his companion would resume his relaxing ministrations but instead Jim retreated away with a final note on his lips.

"You look like shit," Len said rather elegantly. The stale taste in his mouth and his half-open eyes begged to differ but he actually had woken up feeling good about himself. And that happened two days in a row; That was a miracle by itself.

"At least I don't look like I had just woken up after a hardcore party," Jim countered back. Leonard was pleased to note the smile in his tone.

"Did you sleep at all, last night?" he asked with a more serious edge to his voice and saw Jim shrug.

"Enough. I have survived on less and before you go on to lecture me on the adverse effect of irregular sleep patterns on my health, I assure you I know."

"You are a grown man, more than capable of reaching that conclusion on your own, darlin'!"

"Oh, okay then," was the disappointed reply. Leonard entertained the thought of Jim actually wanting to hear a lecture from him and smirked triumphantly to himself before pulling his legs to a sitting position and his full body following them with regret. He might be feeling good but it didn't mean he was happy to be awake.

"I need a shower and a change of clothes," Leonard mumbled "So do you, if your look is any indication"

"Are you offering to draw and take a bath together, Bones? Because you know what my answer will be." The light flirtation and the unconscious use of the simple epithet reminded him that last night's events had indeed occurred and the man before him was someone important to him; someone who had died but then returned to him; someone he allowed himself to forget about.

"I still can't believe that you are for real"

"That wasn't that bad of a pickup line, was it?" Jim completely had missed Leonard's point but he didn't push it. It was better this way. His insecurities were his own and he would deal with them in good time. First, he had to get changed.

The splash of water on his face had the miraculous effect of waking him up fully and the more he observed the dark circles under Jim's eyes, the more convinced he was that Jim hadn't had a wink of sleep all night long. His tiredness was oozing from him in the form of a slight stench, limited gestures and messy hairs sticking out in all directions. A pang of guilt blossomed in his chest and he knew he couldn't let the good captain resume his duties in such a pitiful state.

"When is your next shift?"

"In half an hour or so. If you are reconsidering the bath thing, we might need to hurry up."

"You can go soak in the bath if you want but I ain't getting near you until you at least trim that beard and gain the appearance of a decent gentleman," Leonard said while combing his own hair. He decided to take the bath later on and change out of his shirt in the mean time. He wouldn't admit it but he didn't want to leave Jim before he really had to. His dear companion was silent for a moment that with his head halfway through his shirt, Leonard had to glance back at him. Jim with all his shamelessness was watching him closely.

"I guess I'll do that later. But as for the beard, I'll have to confer with my officers," he distractedly said.

"Why?" Leonard asked confused and quickly pull on a fresh shirt, suddenly feeling self-conscious about his body.

"Reasons..." Jim stammered and Leonard raised an incredulous eyebrow at him. Unbeknownst to him, Jim actually had no idea what the period appropriate cut he was meant to have. He had left those details to Chekov and Sulu and admittedly it hadn't been the best decision he had made. Especially after seeing the thin moustache cut on Scotty that Chekov had offered. After that horror, he had simply let it go and copy Leonard'ss full grown beard style. He had no choice but to lie, mostly to cover for his embarrassing incompetence and general lack of knowledge on body hair. "There is this bet going on to see who can grow their beard the best, not necessarily the longest but the most well maintained. It gets difficult to handle at certain lengths, though, you know how it is!"

"I can't say I do, Jim but I know a thing or two about failing on that aspect," Leonard confessed, surprising Jim "When I first regained consciousness in the hospital, a year ago, I had no idea how to handle a razor blade; shaky hands, wrong or deep cuts, you name it. When I stood over a patient in the ward, I was the best but the moment I gazed at the mirror, I turned into a wreck. Guess its true what they say about doctors not being able to heal themselves because for all my prodigious achievements with the other patients, I failed at the most basics of human needs, shaving included. It was embarrassing to have Ron or one of the nurses to do that for me but eventually, I learned how to look myself in the eye again and not recoil at the sight of an odd man that criticised my uselessness."

"That was intense. I hadn't anticipated this response." Jim's mouth was left open, his words matching his dumbfounded expression.

"Sorry, guess I am not-" Leonard flushed red as Jim cut in through his apologies.

"Don't be, it's good to share."

"Yeah, I think so too." His blush wasn't disappearing anytime soon so he returned his attention to the mirror, busying his hands with combing his hair.

"You know it's going to take me awhile to go back to my cabin and get changed. Would you mind if I borrow a shirt?" Jim said easily in the awkward silence that had filled the room.

"Sure, I wouldn't want to cause you more trouble."

"Have I told you how authenticly awesome your beard is? Could you, I don't know, do mine the same way?" Leonard squinted at that but had learned to take everything coming out of Jim's mouth as a serious comment.

"You want me to trim your beard?" he asked just to be sure and Jim, honest to God, nodded happily. "By the way, you have the oddest vocabulary, kid" Leonard, unsure of whether that was the right way to proceed with their morning, stood still until Jim peaked behind his back and appeared on the mirror. He honestly seemed excited at the prospect of getting a proper shave. Leonard did not understand how this brilliant man's brain was wired.

He gestured at Jim to sit on the chair in front of the mirror while he gathered his shaving tools and placed them by the sink. Unconsciously, he had ordered them like he would his surgical equipment and he winced at the thought of having to operate on Jim. There were no fond memories to be found in that mindset so he focused on his task. It would take some time but he was capable of tidying up the soft but messy scruff on Jim's chin.

Bones' touch was hesitant but precise, just as it had been in the earlier days of their relationship, Jim realised. In those first days which weren't that far back, Jim would always make excuses to have some sort of contact with Bones where he would be more cautious and his touches would be more reserved. For a while, it had scared Jim because their skin on skin contact had been less than what it was when they were best friends. He had been afraid that It had been a sign, proving that their friendship was nowhere near to survive under the demands of a relationship. Fortunately, he had been wrong and their shaky companionship had evolved into something more solid.

Yet, those timid hands had returned. Jim didn't blame Bones for that but a small part of his was disappointed at the lack of habitual response to him, and to his touch. He had irrefutable faith in those fingers which held a sharp razor so close to his neck and he knew memory or no memory, Bones would never hurt him on purpose. If he felt fear in his bones, it was because of the primitive tools that they had to use.

The cool touch of the soap and the clean cut of the lower scruff was done in mere minutes and Jim realised a soft sigh. Leonard snorted amusedly at that, taking no offence. After a few clips of his well-aimed metal scissors and cuts over the edges and he was done. Efficient and fast. Just like how Bones always worked. Jim tried to get up but Bones sat him back down, slicking his fingers with a floral scented oil. Jim's mind wondered off to unmentionable extremes while Bones reminded ignorant, much to his dismay. Feeling Bones' large hands cradling his face while spreading the oil rose an undeniable need in him. The soft touch of the comb going through his hair and coming face to face with those expressive eyes and the eyebrows frowning in concentration were not helping him either.

"Finished," Leonard exclaimed as he stepped away to wonder at his craft. Jim's insanely thick eyebrows excluded, he had done everything in his power to shape the wild hair. It had been a pleasure to sink his hands in between Jim's dirty blond locks and feel his small shivers at the tip of his fingertips.

"Thank you, doctor," Jim replied after examining his new look in the mirror with a contented hum. There was a sadness in his tone and Leonard was sceptical whether he really liked the end result but he didn't question it.

"Should I be worried that your first officer is going to barge in any time now?"

"No, but I should probably make my way back to the Bridge. Spock doesn't like it when I'm late for my shift."

"He is a stick in the mud, that one" Leonard chipped in, earning a genuine laugh from Jim. He swallowed thickly and straightened his back, "So, you don't have time left to grab breakfast and coffee?"

"Are you asking me out on a date, McCoy?" Jim teased as he tugged his shirt in his trousers and reattached his suspenders, all the while Leonard blushed like a damned teenager and refused to send a glance Jim's way.

"No. Yes, I mean it's just breakfast, man," he replied flustered. He expected Jim to continue his teasing but there was none of that. Instead, he stood with crossed arms and a crooked neck. He was more sombre than Leonard had ever seen him.

"I'd love to but duty beckons."

"You should have woken me earlier, Jim. Did you even get a wink of sleep last night? Don't sugarcoat it this time!" Leonard sighed and by the guilty look on Jim's face, the answer was obvious.

"No, but it was worth it. I couldn't risk your condition relapsing and not notice it. Thankfully, it didn't."

The following smile was divine, melting some of Leonard's despair away and the sudden tightness in his chest was a surprise, but it really shouldn't have been. This man who gazed at him with undivided attention, whose smile could lift his spirits in a millisecond, he was truly a defining part of Leonard's past. There was no mistaking it now, not after last night.

"Sorry, it's my fault," Leonard found himself apologising again "Making you worry about my own damn problems while you have a whole ship of people to take care of..."

"No, no..." Jim interrupted hurriedly, then a mischievous shine appeared in his eyes, "but if you say you can't survive with this guilt, then there is a way to make it up to me." Leonard really had a bad feeling about this, even though he had practically walked right into that one.

"Oh, yeah?" he raised his eyebrow, scowling.

"Yeah, just a tiny itsy bitsy thing," Jim said approaching him with a predatory gaze, "I promise you, it will not take a second of your time."

"Go ahead, then," McCoy encouraged, already knowing what to expect. He leaned in closer to Jim and to his credit, Jim's smirk dimmed, his lips slightly parting to take in a small breath as his eyes shone with love and adoration. It was unlike any look Leonard had received from anyone and it filled him with an unbearable delight, likes of which he never considered feeling before.

An unspoken question lingered into the tiny breadth between them. Jim took the initiative and placed a tentative hand on Leonard's stiff shoulder. "We are all a tad bit different, and not necessarily all bad, Bones" he whispered, trying to ease Leonard's worries. Having already reached to the desired solution, Leonard, in return, decided to to take over the reins and grabbed Jim's suspenders, pulling him in. Then, those sinful lips were on his and all the questions were left to be forgotten.

His hand travelled upwards to grasp Jim's short hair, while strong arms, determined to meld them into one, enveloped him fiercely. Teeth clicking and breaths coming up short, the frantic motion of lips against lips overthrew Leonard's intention of giving a chaste kiss for an apology but he welcomed the familiar warmth with ease. He stroked the soft scruff on Jim's neck, his back arching to fit into the curve of Jim's body. One of them let out a shaky moan and one hand dropped lower while the other rose up on his back, both caressing skin with each gasp.

Leonard's mouth hurt from the friction burn but he wasn't about to complain. He spared a few glances during the in-between moments of getting air, where he saw that Jim's lips had taken a darker shade of red, a fact he was glad to notice. He did what any good doctor would do in his place and kissed them better with gentle touches. Jim giggled at that and it wasn't in him to scowl after hearing such a beautiful sound.

"I missed your everything, Bones," was the first spoken sentence when they dared to break apart, "Your scent, your touch but especially your smile"

"Is that, right? Did I smile a lot before?" Jim snorted at the innocent question.

"No way. It was a challenge to get you to smile. It was rare but totally worth it." The captain sounded amused, but to Leonard, it brought about a whole new set of questions; ranging between but not limited to, what made him be so miserable and why wasn't Jim's presence enough to get rid of that misery? He was generally a cynic but not a complete despondent sod, not when he was surrounded by people he liked. These were important for him to know, he realised as his faltering gaze found and held Jim's because if he had unhappy memories, then he didn't want them. He would be more than glad to continue on without the needless despair.

As if hearing his inner monologue, Jim spoke up again. This time, he sounded wistful. "Don't tell the others but you always had a reserved smile for rainy days. Sometimes it was hidden behind a bourbon glass and other times, more rarely, it was open-hearted and carefree. That's what made it so special though because it was always real, never faked and never forced out of kindness. You were honesty when everyone around me was either a lie or gone before they could keep their promises."

"If you are telling this to me so I am not terrified of my own damn past, then too late, Jimmy," Leonard whimpered and Jim surged forward, borrowing closer and urging Leonard to nuzzle into the hollow of his neck.

"Don't be afraid, Bones. Once you get yourself back together you too will see that it's worth it."

"I'll trust you on that, Kirk," he replied but doubt lingered in his mind. Jim, the perceptive man that he was, recognised it easily.

"Tell you what, you go draw yourself a good, relaxing bath and take a nap. Get your thoughts in order. Then we'll meet up for dinner and you can ask me anything you want."

Leonard frowned but nodded, suddenly feeling like a child in Jim's arms "You seem like you need the bath and the sleep more than I do, kid," he countered and the impish glint returned to Jim's gaze. He really didn't need much poking, figuratively, to bring forth his flirtatious side.

"Is that an invitation, Bones?" Jim parroted his earlier line.

It would have been if not for your required presence in the Bridge, Leonard wanted to say but he hadn't earned that kind of a privilege. Instead, he patted the blond hair affectionately and backed away "There was something about a change of clothes, you had mentioned?"

"Oh, Bones, if I strip down now I am not putting anything on anything until after a few hours." Leonard managed to catch the meaning behind his words quickly enough and albeit begrudgingly he shook his head, fighting off a smile. Jim wiggling his eyebrows did not help his case.

"Get going before I have to kick you out of here, you damn kid! I am not witnessing you being dragged away by your own officers, either. Not today!" Leonard pushed the captain towards the door. He would follow the suggestions but that didn't mean he wouldn't complain while doing them. They would have time to discuss things thoroughly later on.


End file.
